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FRANCIS BACON

: OF VERULAM.,

, ey «

I28 |

eTRISF las
. Eo 3

FRANCES BACON

OF VERULAM.

REALISTIC PHILOSOPHY AND ITS AGE.

BY

KUNO FISCHER.

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY

JOHN OXENFORD.

** Veritas Temporis filia.’’
Nov, Ora. I. 84.

LONDON:
LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, LONGMANS, & ROBERTS.

1857.

TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE,

My chief object in translating Dr. Fischer’s
excellent work on Bacon and the realistic phi-
losophy, was to lay before English readers a brief
but complete digest of two books, which, all- |
important as they are in the history of science,
are most assuredly commended much oftener than
they are read. Whatever veneration may be paid
in England to the treatise “De Augmentis Sci-
entiarum” and to the ‘“ Novum Organum,” few
indeed are the students who would elaborate for
themselves so perfect a summary of the doctrines
contained in those celebrated productions as is
presented by Dr. Fischer within the space of a
few brief chapters. Whether his estimate of the
English philosopher merits approval or not,
the value of the descriptive part of his book

A3

vl TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE.

remains indubitable. To heighten this value, and
to bring Bacon more immediately before the
reader than he is in the original German, I have
given extracts in the margin, where Dr. Fischer
has only given references; and wherever it has
been possible, I have introduced the Baconian
words into the text.

In performing the work of translation, I have
endeavoured, as much as possible, to make my
version readable. Dr. Fischer does not, it is true,
indulge in those technicalities which have been
introduced into the German language by the suc-
cessors of Kant; indeed, with the exception of a
few Kantisms, generally explained by the context,
his book is free from technicalities altogether.
Nevertheless, the German language, indepen-
dently of the influence of philosophical schools,
contains expressions which cannot be verbally
rendered without producing a result totally unin-
telligible to any one but a German scholar. I
have, therefore, endeavoured to render sentence
for sentence rather than word for word, certain

that I should thus render a greater service to the

TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE. Vil

generality of readers than by encumbering the text
with a number of strange compounds, utterly at
variance with the genius of the English language.
Some readers, perhaps, will think I might have
gone farther in this respect, and adopted more
familiar expressions than (for instance) “ realistic”
and “naturalistic.” To these I reply, that the
abolition of all apparently pedantic expressions
would produce ambiguity. To ordinary ears,
“real philosophy ”’ would sound as the antithesis
to sham philosophy, rather than to any form of
idealism.

Where Dr. Fischer’s marginal references have
obviously been made for a German public only, I
have taken the liberty to omit them, and in some
cases, where I thought further elucidation neces-
sary, I have added a note, signed with my own
initials. "With the same view, I have inserted two

appendices,

J. O.

London: September, 1857.

A4

“
i
panels:

REE

bss

2a

AUTHOR’S PREFACE.

Tue theatre of modern philosophy is a field of
battle, wherein two opposite and hostile ten-
dencies— Realism and Idealism—contend with
each other in asserting claims to truth. These
tendencies are not merely systems, but hinds of
philosophy that in no age but a modern one
could become so conscious of their mutual differ-
ence, or so definitely and clearly express it. If
we were to compare scientific with dramatic op-
position, the realists and idealists would be the
two adverse choruses in the drama of modern
philosophy. The opposite parties will not be
silent until their union is effected, until the modes
of thought, now strained against each other, be-
come so interpenetrated, that both are saturated
alike. For each lives only in the weaknesses and
defects of its adversary. The boundaries between
them will be passed when they are clearly under-
stood; that is to say, when each party recognises
the strength of its adversary, and appropriates it to

x AUTHOR'S PREFACE.

itself. Many attempts to produce this result have
been made during the first period of our philo-
sophy. If we accurately consider the matter, we
shall find that realism and idealism, from the
time of their modern origin, have described not
parallel but convergent paths, which, at the
same time, have met at one common point. This
point at which the idealistic and realistic ten-
dencies crossed, as at a common vertex, was the
Kantian philosophy, which has taken account of
them both and united them in their elements. In
this, as indeed in every respect, it has set up a
standard, which must serve as a polar star to all
subsequent philosophy. If, at the present day,
we are asked, how we shall follow the right track
in philosophy, we must answer, by a most ac-
curate study of Kant. Since his time there
has not been a philosopher of importance, who
has not desired to be at once a realist and an
idealist. If the name had been sufficient, the
gre.‘ and all-pervading problem that occupies the
mind of modern philosophy would have already
been solved more than once. All these self-
called ideal-reai. -ic, or real-idealistic, attempts do
not, indeed, prove that they have solved the
problem, but they prove that it is recognised and
admitted. It is sufficient for us to establish the
fact that the problem exists, and, without opposi-
tion worthy of note, is everywhere regarded as all-

AUTHOR'S PREFACE. xi
important.* Nevertheless the contest continues,
and the idealistic systems of the Germans, however
realistic they would appear, have always found
realism arrayed against them. The two tenden-
cies are again divergent, and the divergency is
not to be got rid of by any new name or formula.

German idealism would have been much bene-
fited if it had made itself thoroughly acquainted
with its adversary, and learned to appropriate the
strength of that adversary to itself, in order to
shun the more securely the accompanying defects.
Our German idealists have no right to treat the
English empirical philosophers with so much su-
perciliousness ; and with a few words to consign
them to the contempt of their disciples, as mere
“unspeculative ” intellects, more especially as
Leibnitz by no means thought it beneath him to
honour Locke with a close examination, but by his
“Nouveaux Essais sur ’Entendement Humain,”
did greater service to German philosophy than alt
the philosophical writings that appeared amos us
prior to Kant’s “Critique of Pure Reason.” His
example has not been followed. If German
philosophy is looked upon in Engiand and France
as German dreaming, we oug't not to repay one
wrong with another, but are bound to deprive the

»

* “ Giiltig,” literally “valid ;” but the word would hardly be
forcible enough in this place. —J. O.

xil AUTHOR’S PREFACE.

reproach of its force, by showing that, without
dreaming and without prejudice, we recognise
foreign philosophers, and appreciate them to the
extent of their deserts, especially as in matters of
science every act of injustice betokens ignorance.
Francis Bacon is still regarded by his country-
men as the greatest philosopher of England; and
in this opinion they are perfectly right. He is
the founder of that philosophy which is called the —
realistic, which exercised so powerful an influence _
upon even Leibnitz and Kant, to which Kant
especially was indebted for the last impulses to
his epoch-making works, and to which France

paid homage in the eighteenth century. Now
this very philosopher, of the first rank among
the realists, is not only still without that acknow-
ledgment in Germany, which is his due, but he
has never even been treated of by any German
in a thorough and satisfactory manner. In our
histories and compendia of modern philosophy,
Bacon plays either no part at all, or at best but a
very insignificant and subordinate part, as one
among others who made his appearance during
the strange transition from medieval to modern
philosophy. Some rank him with the natural
philosophers of Italy, with whom Bacon, if we
regard the principal point, has scarcely more in
common than the expression “natural philoso-

3)

pher;” and from whom he is distinguished not

AUTHOR’S PREFACE. xii

only by his mode of thought, which is entirely
different, but also by his relation to antiquity,
which in this case offers a fitting standard. Others
express his relation to modern philosophy by
placing him by the side of the German mystic,
Jacob Béhme, with whom he has nothing in
common but the first letter of his name. Ina
word, most of the opinions respecting Bacon,
which are uttered among the Germans, especially
those most prominent, are as superficial as they
are unsatisfactory and incorrect. If this had not
been the case I should have had some reasons the
less for writing this book, in which I endeavour
to do justice to the importance of Bacon.

It may be objected that the points of contact
between the German and English philosophy—
between Idealism and Realism—are less to be
found in Bacon himself, than in some of his suc-
cessors ; that it was not Bacon, but Hume, who
influenced Kant, not Bacon, but Locke, who in-
fluenced Leibnitz; that Spinoza, if he was affected
by the English at all, was influenced not by
Bacon but by Hobbes; and (as is well known)
invariably spoke of Bacon in terms of contempt.
To this I shall answer that it was Bacon who
was opposed by Descartes, the acknowledged
founder of dogmatical idealism. As for those
realists, who have come into contact with the op-
posite philosophy, as represented by Spinoza,

+)

XIV AUTHOR’S PREFACE,

Leibnitz, and Kant, this work is intended to
prove that the Hobbes, Lockes and Humes, are all
descendants from Bacon ; that in him they all took
root, and that without him they cannot be truly
explained and accounted for, but merely be un-
derstood in a fragmentary and cursory manner.
_ Bacon con is the < creator of the realistic philosophy,
the period of which is throughout a . development
of Baconian genius, so that every one of its forma-

tions is a metamorphosis of the Baconian philo-

sophy. To this day yealism has had on its side
who | en ae the true realistic ey ex-
ulting in all its fulness of life, so broadly and at
the same time so characteristically ; so circum-
spectly, and at the same time under such an
ideal aspect, and so high in its aspirations; no
one in whom the lhmits of this mind are so
definitely and naturally exhibited. Bacon’s phi-
losophy is the liveliest est_ expression of realism, and

After the systems of a ‘Spincaa and a Lailnita
had long influenced me, filled my thoughts, and, as
it were, absorbed me into themselves, the occupa-
tion with the works of Bacon seemed to me like
a new life, the fruits of which I collected in this
volume. If I resign myself to the impression
which is made by the Baconian philosophy as a
whole, and which ever enlists the imagination on

AUTHOR’S PREFACE. XV

its side, I feel that there is something in it that
in a most peculiar, and at the same time
natural manner, distinguishes it from other works
of European philosophy. In its orderly and vi-
gorous fulness of life, that excludes all artificial
regularity, this philosophy, like an English park,
is totally free from all formal trimming ; or, to ex-
press myself more cogently, it has, like the mighty
island that gives it birth, nothing inland about
it. I.can easily understand that Bacon is re-
garded as the national English philosopher par
excellence.

Bacon stands in the same relation to Realism
as that in which Descartes stands to dogmatic
Idealism, Leibnitz to German “ enlightenment,”
Kant to modern philosophy. He opens the path
which others pursue, by following his traces. Hence
I have treated him as much in detail, the others as
concisely as possible, having adopted a similar plan
in another work with respect to Leibnitz and the
German philosophers of the eighteenth century.
The scientific importance which I attach to Bacon,
and the limits set by the plan of my work, may
justify this mode of treatment. My purpose was to
exhibit the Baconian philosophy, : and from this basis
to deduce the theories of the philosophers who suc-
ceeded him. If the English philosophy is depen-
dent on B: Bacon, and the French philosophy of the
eighteenth century dependent upon that, I could

~-s

Pet

XVi AUTHORS PREFACE.

do no more with respect to the latter, than desig-
nate the philosophical position which it occupies,
especially as it is my design in another mono-
graphy to review more closely the group of these
French philosophers.

While this book constitutes an independent
work in itself, distinct from my general work on
the history of modern philosophy, I will own that
it is so far related to it that the subject treated
there is not treated here. This is in accordance
with the object of the book; for Bacon and his
successors, although they form a necessary supple-
ment to modern philosophy, and are not without
influence on the idealistic branch of it, neverthe-
less, have a separate and independent direction of
their own, which does not decline towards the op-
posite side. For the fact that both tendencies
meet in Kant, is a result of the power of attraction
that was exercised upon Kant by realism. :

The relation of Bacon to antiquity, and that of
his philosophy to Kant, were the first points of
my subject to which I directed my glance, and
which I made clear to myself. In the explana-
tion of these points consisted my first attempts at
the present work. This proved of practical im-
portance to myself, as it was in a public lecture
on the relation of Bacon to the ancients, that for
the first time, after a lapse of seven years, I once

AUTHOR’S PREFACE, . XvVil

more discoursed from an academical chair. The
philosophical faculty of Berlin, to whom I am in-
debted for that memorable honour, will allow me,
in remembrance of it, to dedicate to them this

book with silent gratitude.

Kuno FIiscuer.

Heidelberg : 27th January, 1856.

+ &»

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

Bacon of Verulam as a Moral and Scientific Character

CHAP. II.

Invention as the Problem of the Baconian Philosophy
x I. The Baconian Point of View.— Discovery and
Invention : . ;

II. The Dominion of Man pens Hominis)
III. The Interpretation of Nature (Interpretatio Na-
ture) . , ° , . .

CHAP. III.

Experience as the Means of Invention
7> I. The Idols
* II. The Baconian euctichenn. ei ere and Deseletes
a III, The Experimentalising Perception
_1, Conviction opposed to Authority
"2. Real opposed to Verbal Knowledge
“3 Natural Analogy opposed to Human Analogy
4. Experiment opposed to the Delusion of the
Senses. —Sense and Instrument .
- 5. Efficient opposed to Final Causes .

PAGE

XxX

CONTENTS.

CHAP. IV.

~ True Induction as the Method of Experience

I, The Comparison of several Instances
Il. The Import of Negative Instances. —

Experience

Critical

Il. Induction and imedaction in ye Bacohien

Prerogative Instances as Aids to Induction. — Natural

Science

CHAP. ‘VY.

Analogies as Prerogative Instances

L The Defects of the Baconian Method

II. The Prerogative Instances .
Til. Natural Analogies

CHAP. VI.

The Philosophy of Bacon in its Relation to the Philosophy
preceding it :
I. The Practical ene Beenie and secpiciant

II. The Physical Foundation :

III. The Antiformal Tendency . :

> 1. Bacon’s Antagonism to Aristotle .

\

Syllogism ‘
Experience
Syllogism and eperionee

2, Bacon’s Opposition and Affinity to Plato.—
His Opinion of Plato and Aristotle

The Platonic Idealism .
The Platonic Method .

3. The Affinity of Bacon to Democritus aa

the Atomists

PAGE
96
97

101

112

116
119
121
125

140
143
146
156
152
154
157
161

163
166
169

172

CONTENTS.

\
CHAP. VIL
The Baconian Philosophy in its Relation to Poetry :
I. The Baconian Poetics . °

II. The Baconian Interpretation of the ‘Kelas
Myths.—The Fable of Eros .
III. Greek and Roman EL Hadon and

Shakspeare . ° é .
CHAP. VIII. “
The Baconian Philosophy as the “ Instauratio Magna” of
Science. — Organon and Encyclopedia . , °
CHAP. IX.

The Baconian nee as an Encyclopedia of the
Sciences . ° ° ‘ ‘ °
History ‘ : ° ° ‘ .
Science ‘ ‘
I, Fundamental Philosophy. Bay eee i ,
Il. Natural Theology : ; é ;
III. Natural Philosophy , : .
1, Theoretical Natural Philosophy ‘ .
Physics . . , ‘ .
Metaphysics . ‘ .
2. Practical Natural Philosophy : .
3. Mathematics ‘ é °
IV. Anthropology . : R ° :

| 1. Physiology . : . ‘

2. Psychology . , ‘

Vv 3. Logic ° é . , ‘
$4. Ethics
J 5. Politics . . é ; ‘

PAGE
181
182
191

200

214

XxXil CONTENTS.

CHAP. X.

PAGE
The Baconian Philosophy in its Relation to Religion . 290
I. The Separation between Reason and the Faith

in Revelation. — Bacon and Tertullian eS)
Il. Bacon’s Position with regard to Religion. —
Contradiction and Solution . : . 298
1. The Theoretical View : : . 3802
2. The Practical View : : - O07
3. The Political View. ° é eg Bt
4. The Negative View ° : - 16
+ 5. Bacon’s own Religious Sentiments . . 320

III. Diversity of Opinion respecting the Religious
Views of Bacon. —Bacon and De Maistre . 324

CHAP. XI.

The Baconian Principle of Faith in its Development . 84)

J. Bacon and Bayle é : . 347
Il. The Anglo-Gallic “ Bnlightenmeut aes ae ay!
Ill. The German “ Enlightenment ” : . 364
\ CHAP. XIL
The Baconian Philosophy considered in its Relation to
History and the Present Ps Ye
I. Bacon’s Unhistorical Mode of Thought . . 374

II. Bacon and Macaulay. . ; oe

CONTENTS.
CHAP. XIIL*«

The Progress of the Baconian Philosophy . - ‘
Empiria and Empirism : ; ° ‘
Empirism . ° ,

The Degrees of Development j in Empitien ‘ °
% I. The Atomism of Hobbes ‘ .
1. The State as an absolute Power

2. Morality and Religion as a Product of the

State
3. The State as a Dene of wide
II. The Sensualism of Locke : A
1. The Mind as a Tabula Rasa ; -
2. The Origin of Knowledge . : °

8. Knowledge as a Product of Perception. —
Sensation and Reflection .
Iil. The French “Enlightenment” .
IV. The so-called Idealism of Berkeley
1. Things as Perceptions
2. Perceptions as Things
3. The Deity is the Originator or our Pa
ceptions . / ° °
V. The Scepticism of Wine.
1. The Objects of Knowledge .
2. Mathematics and Experience °
8. Experience as a Product of Causality ;
4, Causality as a Product of Experience.—

Custom and Faith ;
5. Custom as a Political Point of View
VI. Hume’s Contradiction, and Kant’s Solution °
VIL. Bacon and Kant . A Pn ‘ .
.. APPENDICES.
Appendix A. (Referred to at p. 87) ‘ x °

Appendix B. (Referred to at p. 125) . “ ‘

XxX1l1

PAGE
406
408
411
414
416
418

420
425
435
437
440

442
451
454
456
460

463
468
469
470
473

476
483
494
497

503
505

FRANCIS BACON

OF VERULAM.

CHAPTER I.

BACON OF VERULAM AS A MORAL AND SCIENTIFIC CHARACTER,

THE great intellectual achievements of a man are
never so utterly distinct and separable from his
life that he can be one person in his worldly
career, and entirely another in the emanations
of his mind. There is always a certain corre-
spondence between the moral and the scientific
character, and a mistake has been made when the
character of Bacon has been excepted from the
law of such an analogy. On the other hand,
this law would be very wrongly applied if we
attributed certain moral blemishes and delin-
quencies affecting the life of Bacon to his scientific
B

2 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

tendency, or from this tendency explained his
moral course. Such a relation would be more
than analogy, it would be a relation of cause
and effect. Of such an immediate influence of
the scientific upon the moral character, we can
only speak with great caution, inasmuch as the
moral character precedes the scientific in order
of time, and human characters generally do not
form themselves before the mirror of science.
Nevertheless, there is between the two modes of
expressing the mental individuality a natural
homogeneity, which does not consist in the one
following the other, but proceeds from this: that
the genius of the man directs both to the same ends;
for the genius of a great individual remains the
same in all its utterances. Leibnitz, with his per-
sonal character, could never have become a phi-
losopher like Spinoza, nor Bacon like Descartes.
The scientific direction pursued by Bacon fully
corresponded to the peculiarity of his nature, to
his wants and inclinations; and this direction was
ereatly favoured by his moral disposition. Indeed,
without such a cooperation of the mental powers,
no great intellectual achievement is possible.

It is wrong to blame or pity Bacon because,
being a scientific character of the first rank, he
was at the same time too ambitious to prefer the
repose of a scientific life to the charms of high

SCIENTIFIC AMBITION. 3

and influential office. Bacon himself, in his old
age, has lamented this as a misfortune, but not as
a weakness. The misfortune was his destiny, and
likewise the destiny of his science. Not only he,
but his science also, was too ambitious, too
practical*, too much open to the world, to bury
itself in seclusion. To advance the power of man
is, On one occasion, called by Bacon himself the
highest degree of ambition.f And this ambition
belonged to his science; this effort was its first
and last thought ; on account of this very ambition
Bacon became a scientific character. His science
was of a kind that could not endure a life
of quiet retirement; it would rather float along
the stream of the world than remain in a state
of tranquil and secluded contemplation. «A \
talent is cultivated in seclusion, —a character —
in the stream of the world.”{ To adopt these -
words of Géthe, the home of Baconian science
was the school, not of talent, but of character, —
that is to say, it was worldly life on a grand
scale. To this his philosophy and all his efforts
were inclined. He decided early in life that a

* “ Thatenlustig,” literally “delighting in action.”—J. O.
t Compare Nov. Org. i. 129.; also vide Chap. IIL. of this
work,
t “ Es bildet ein Talent sich in der Stille,
Sich ein Character in dem Strom der Welt.”

4 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

science secluded from the world must be narrow
and sterile, and that the wretched phght from
| which he wished to rescue philosophy was partly
to be explained by the life of retirement usually
| adopted by learned men. He judged that the
knowledge of these persons was as narrow as their
cells, as the convents and cloisters in which they
were secluded, mm ignorance of the world, nature,
and their own times. So diametrically—both from
inclination and on principle —was the scientific
mind of Bacon opposed to the condition of learn-
ing that had continued down to his own time, that
he necessarily felt an impulse to alter even its
outward form of existence, and to exchange the
life of the cloister for the life of the world. The
student of the cell was transformed into a man of
the world, who, both in science and in practical
life, aimed at the same lofty goal of influential
power. Doubtless his practical career demanded
a heavy expenditure of time and labour; and thus
there was so much less to bestow on scientific
labour. But are we, on that account, to wish
that Bacon had devoted his whole life, or the
greater portion of it, to secluded science? This
would be neither more nor less than wishing that
Bacon had been endowed with another sort of
scientific mind; that he had been another philo-
sopher than he actually was; —this would be over-

APPARENT CONTRADICTIONS. 5

looking the peculiar character of Baconian science.
If we take this peculiar character into consi-
deration, we find there is no contradiction implied
in the fact that Bacon at the same time directed
his energies both to science and to the acquisition
of office. Even in the name of his science he
could require the scholar to learn practical life
from his own experience,—not merely theo-
retically, as by a bird’s-eye view, but by actual
participation. This, indeed, was what Bacon
desired. In a scientific spirit he reproached the
learned for their ordinary deficiency in a virtue of
the understanding that could only be acquired in
practical life,— namely, a knowledge of business
and political prudence.*

However, the manner in which Bacon displayed
himself as a political character,— his own especial
acts in this capacity seem diametrically opposed
to his scientific greatness. This opposition has
often been pointed out and lamented. Bacon has
even been set up as an example to show how
widely distinct from each other are the scientific

* De Dign. et Augm. Scientiarum, lib. viii. cap. 2, (near the
beginning). —“ Doctrinam de Negotiis pro rei momento tractavit
adhuec nemo, cum magna tam litterarum quam litteratorum ex-
istimationis jactura. Ab hac enim radice pullulet illud malum,
quod notam eruditis inussit; nimirum, eruditionem et pru-
dentiam civilem rard admodum conjungi.”

B 3

6 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

and moral tendencies of a man—to how high
a degree of internal contradiction the variance
between these two characters can be brought.
Mr. Macaulay, especially, has of late pushed this
contradiction to such an extreme point that it
seems insoluble, and the character of Bacon
appears inexplicable. Macaulay pleads against
Montagu on the subject of Bacon’s moral worth ;
and it is well so to compare the two biographers
(of whom the second is the panegyrist), that one
may serve as a corrective to the other. For our
own part, we shall neither defend nor attack
Bacon’s character, but simply explain it, and
hence we look here for that intrinsic harmony
which belongs to every important character.
Taking everything into consideration, we must
confess that the contradiction between Bacon the
philosopher and Bacon the political character does
not appear to us so violent as it is represented by
Macaulay. Neither was the one (to use the
expression of Macaulay, who infelicitously cites a
Baconian figure of speech),— neither was the one
a “soaring angel,” nor the other a “ creeping
snake.” Neither on the one side is there pure
light, nor on the other is there mere shade, but
on both sides is a compound of both. Of all the
images that could be selected, none could be
more unhappy than one which suggests a com-

THE **CREEPING SNAKE.” 7

parison between Bacon’s philosophy and a winged
angel. On the contrary, it was Bacon’s express
and repeatedly avowed intention to make philo-
sophy leave off her habit of flying; to pluck off her
wings, and to put leaden weights in their place ;
to hold her firmly down upon the ground, among
earthly things, where Bacon himself lived, with
all his inclinations. Bacon wished to transform
philosophy, from a roving spirit that looks down-
wards from above, into a human being, that
cautiously ascends by the toilsome road of expe-
rience. When Bacon, as a political character,
takes the same road, and stumbles so often on this
steep, rugged, intricate path of life, he does not,
therefore, become a creeping snake. If every-
thing that crept was necessarily a snake, it
would be bad indeed; and I verily believe that
whoever, under similar circumstances, pursues the
same course as Bacon, will often find himself in
such a strait that he will be compelled to creep.
I well know the objections that will be made here.
The blemishes of Bacon’s life are not mere human
errors and weaknesses, but debased sentiments and
political crimes. This I do not pretend to deny ;
much less would I defend delinquencies which are
proved beyond the possibility of doubt. The un-
worthy sentiments are open to view; the crimes
are acknowledged by Bacon himself; they have
B 4

8 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

sullied his public name, and if they are designated
in the hardest terms, I offer no objection ; only to
me these single traits are not all the indices of his
character. As far as I see, the character would have
been precisely the same if the unworthy sentiments
had not been so obviously manifest; if the crimes
had not been committed. I could well imagine that
with greater prudence Bacon might have avoided
either the crimes themselves, or the whole weight
of responsibility attached to them; but in that
case I should not think a whit the better of him,
or a whit the worse. He would then have been a
more cunning, but not a better man. Indeed, a
thorough-paced scoundrel, an accomplished plotter,
would never have fallen into such open guilt. A
human character should indeed be judged by its
actions; but then the whole of these should be
taken into the account. We should consider not
only how a man deports himself in isolated cases,
under the combined influence of all sorts of circum-
stances, but how his moral elements are blended
with each other. That which, in the natural dis-
position of a character, is a mere weakness, may
easily, through the force of circumstances, give
rise to a bad action, or even a crime. By this the
mode of action is certainly not improved, but
neither does the element of the character become
worse. When bad actions are equally base in their

POLITICAL AMBITION. 9

outward appearance, the psychological connoisseur
of the human may still detect an important dif-
ference in the fundamental character of the de-
linquents. If we pay no regard to the mixture
of moral elements, we form a one-sided, abstract,
and therefore incorrect judgment on the subject
of character.

Let the experiment be made with Bacon.
Had he not been entangled in the affairs of Essex
and Buckingham, we should have known none of
those traits, on the strength of which Macaulay
opposes the baseness of his moral personality
to his scientific greatness, and Macaulay would
have passed a more favourable judgment. But
he would not have been right in so doing; for
Bacon’s moral nature would still have been
the same. We do not say this to excuse or
defend, but simply to explain his character,
which remains inexplicable if the apparent con-
tradiction be admitted. What attached Bacon
to Essex and Buckingham ?—not friendship, not
‘sympathy, but motives of self-interest. They
were men of the most powerful influence; the
former was the favourite of Elizabeth, the latter
of James I. To rise in the offices of the state,
Bacon desired and sought court favour; and this
could not be obtained and preserved without
such mediators. If he would become a man of

10 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

consequence, and accelerate his career, the favour
of others was unfortunately a. more effective
expedient than his own intrinsic talent. Now,
ought Bacon to have avoided a practical career
altogether? He was forced to pursue it by his
inclinations, by his temperament, by the force of
circumstances. At first he had to contend with
the greatest obstacles; even his nearest rela-
tives, the powerful Burleighs, threw impedi-
ments in his way, and long held him down in
a dependent position. If Bacon would not
give up his practical aims, and vanish into a
life of seclusion, repugnant to his nature, he
must seek for assistance,—totally distinct from
his own talents,—in the influence, protection,
and patronage of others, and these he could
not secure without courtly pliability,—without
becoming a serviceable tool in the hands of the
powerful.

Here Bacon entered upon that hazardous and
slippery path, which, though it brought him to
the highest posts of honour, led him also into a
multitude of perplexities and embarrassments,
and at last caused his precipitate fall from the
summit of prosperity to the depth of destruction.
It was a hard and steep road that Bacon had
to travel, as he rose from the poor barrister to the
Keeper of the Seals and Lord Chancellor of

MORAL LAXITY,. Il

England ; from the unwearied suppliant to Baron
Verulam and Viscount St. Alban. Nor did he
find any difficulty in accommodating himself to
the windings of the path, and in sacrificing so
much of his moral independence as circumstances
required. Nature had not formed him of stub-
born material. He was easy and pliant to the
highest degree,—made on purpose to guide himself
by the course of circumstances, of which he took
a very clear view. The temporibus servire cor-
responded to his natural temperament, and to
the tone of his philosophy, of which the fun-
damental principle was to follow the times by a
mode of thought really conformable to the
times. Altogether, Bacon did not regard life
with the conviction that it was a problem of
eternal import, to be solved according to a moral
rule, but rather as a game that could only be
won by quickly-devised and judicious tactics.
There are characters who affect to be easy,
pliable, and subservient to the will of others,
that they have the greater chance of becoming
the reverse of all this; who apparently allow
themselves to be governed, that their own rule
may be rendered the more secure, and like the
cunning pope seek the keys of power with stoop-
ing heads. Among these hypocritical and really
arbitrary characters Bacon is not to be enume-

12 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

rated. His ambition was of a yielding kind, and
his natural honesty came often into collision with
his political shrewdness. To-day, in conformity
with his own convictions, he delivered a patriotic
speech in Parliament against the subsidies*, and
having thus offended the queen he did all he
could to appease her wrath. He repented that
he had made the speech; and we may be fully
convinced that he felt- unfeigned sorrow on
account of an impolitic act that was so much in
the way of his plans. On another occasion he
toiled to save the man who had been his
benefactor; but when he saw that the queen’s
good graces were at stake, he allowed his friend
to fall, having only sought his favour because he
had been the favourite of the queen. He always
stooped as soon as he saw that he might knock
his head by keeping it upright. ‘This spectacle
of so great a mind in such a wavering and
undignified condition is far from edifying; but
even here we may find a trait that accompanies
Bacon’s character through all his wanderings,
that belongs to his peculiarities, and has its
foundation in his inmost nature ;—I mean an
extraordinary facility in helping himself, under

* The speech referred to was made by Bacon in 1593 (1592 ?
J. O.), as representative of Middlesex.— Author's note.

ELASTICITY OF CHARACTER. 13

any circumstances, in passing over the difficulties
of a route, and hurrying on as if nothing of any
moment had occurred, as if no mark of evil were
left in his track. In him every unpleasant sensa-
tion was easily smoothed down, every loss, even
moral loss,—nay, even that last of losses, the loss
of a good name, was easily compensated. His
life and his writings make upon us the same
impression, that this man could find nothing
difficult either to endure or to execute. In such
a mind, even this facility is a species of strength,
a proof of indestructible energy and vital power;
a natural elasticity, which indeed appears like a
weakness, whenever it encounters opposition.
David Hume was right when he missed in
Bacon that firmness of character which we
‘call the moral power of resistance. We know
of no philosopher more elastic than Bacon. He
possessed to the highest degree the power and
the impulse to expand himself beyond all bounds,
but the power of resistance he lacked ; he yielded
to a pressure, and allowed himself to be driven
into a corner by the overwhelming force of
circumstances. He could augment and diminish,
with the same natural facility, without being
affected, either in his higher or his lower posi-
tion, by an excessive sensibility, which in the
one case would have stimulated his pride, in the

aS

14 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

other would have too painfully depressed him.
Hence it was that the man, who excelled all

. others in intellectual power, and imprinted a
- new form of mind upon his age, at the same time

presented a soft material capable of receiving
the impression from any hand that happened to
be powerful. This elastic power constitutes, as
it were, the type of his individuality, in which
all his politics, his virtues as well as his foibles,
harmonise with each other. Here we can
perceive that his character is consistent with
itself. From this point we explain the peculiar
turns of his life, his vicissitudes, even his
extremest aberrations.

It is perfectly evident to us that such an intellec-
tual power, fitted as it was to strive towards a great
end, and at the same time to penetrate into minutia,
could not fail to produce extraordinary results in
the region of science; that it was especially made
to awaken a new life in this region, and that,
above all, it corresponded to Bacon’s own scientific
tendency, namely, the progression from parti-
culars to general laws. If we imagine the same
power placed in the midst of social intercourse,
we find that this rich, versatile mind, affable to
every person, accessible to every form of life, con-
tains within itself all the talents that constitute the
agreeable companion. Bacon possessed by nature

INTRINSIC HARMONY. 15

all those qualities which have a right to shine in
society; he united the weighty with the light,
not by deliberate art, but by dint of natural
grace. His command over words was perfect,
both in public orations and in private converse.
According to the testimony of Ben Jonson, Bacon
was an orator whom one never grew weary of
hearing. But this very power, which in science
and in social life finds so brilliant and lofty an
expression, acquires quite another aspect when
its acts are of a moral kind; the moral element is
for such a form of individuality the most uncon-
genial and the most dangerous. There is zo elastic
morality ; and Bacon’s moral nature was as elastic,
as facile, as completely directed towards practical
ends, and as compliant with circumstances, as his
intellect. It quite accorded with the key-note of
his individuality. Here is the perceptible har-
mony of his character, which has often escaped
notice, or (as in the case of Mr. Macaulay) has
been missed altogether. We see in Bacon’s moral
character, as compared with his intellect, not a
distinct being, but only the shadow of his indi-
viduality, which grew larger as its substance
increased in power and importance. Elastic
morality is lax. Moral virtue demands, above
everything, a firm, tough, obstinate power of
resistance, for it consists in a victorious struggle

16 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

with the allurements and temptations of life. If this
power of resistance has its fulcrum in the natural
disposition of the individual, it is a talent. Now
this moral talent was wanting in Bacon’s nature;
and the virtue that corresponds to it was therefore
wanting in his life. All the moral blemishes
that disfigure his life have their real foundation in
this absence of virtue; in this natural want of
resisting power; in that mental facility which
gave such extraordinary animation to his scientific,
and so grievously crippled his moral energies.
Bacon’s life has always appeared to me the strongest
proof of the correctness of Leibnitz’s definition,
according to which evil is the absence of good,
and vice therefore is a moral weakness. Bacon
was not vicious by nature. His moral disposition
was the reverse of diabolical. It was in the
highest degree facile, and therefore frail; through
all the windings of his life it became no worse
than it was by nature ;—1it was easily corrupt-
ible. Indeed, when we see the general cor-
ruption by which such a character was surrounded,
we can scarcely wonder that it fell into sad
perplexities and aberrations. There was no
melancholy element in his disposition to render
him more sensitive to the pressure of life;
he could bear his lot easily; and even from
that terrible blow that gave a mortal wound

COOLNESS OF TEMPERAMENT. 17

to his honour, he recovered with astounding
rapidity, and thenceforward, in voluntary seclu-
sion, devoted all his powers to science. His
feelings corresponded to his temperament. He
had none of those violent and deep emotions that
excite the soul, and carry it forcibly along;
never did love or hatred wholly overpower him;
his love was a cool inclination, his hatred a cool
dislike. No mark of friendship or devotion could
move him to give his whole heart; and, on the
other hand, he was just as little roused by
enmity. It was easy for him to abandon and
even to persecute a fallen friend, for the sake
of gaining the royal favour, or to contract a
marriage, which offered no charm but wealth.
Violent passions were as alien from his heart
as the fallacies, which he termed “ idols,” were
alien from his intellect. His was not a cold,
but a cool nature, whose likes and dislikes kept
themselves within the limits of equanimity.
Thus, without love or devotion, he could be
benevolent, affable, and forgiving; and, without
hatred or malice, he could act as an enemy. To
do him justice, we must say, regarding him from
both sides, that his friendship was indeed
without fidelity, but that, on the other hand, his
enmity was without bitterness; that he took up
and wielded both with equal facility; and that
Cc

18 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

the very characteristic of his mind which ap-
peared like infidelity and ingratitude where a
friend was concerned, looked like magnanimity
and clemency where an enemy was the party in
question. He could be ungrateful to his bene-
factors, but he could not be vindictive to his foes.
He had none of those passions that belong to the
genus of love, but he was equally free from the
opposite emotions of hatred. Instances might be
cited where Bacon acted without feeling, but it
cannot be proved that he was ever prompted by
envy. He could as easily close his heart to the
ingratitude, as he could open it to acknowledge
the merit of others. So right was Spinoza,
when he called envy the converse of sympathy.
If there were a thermometer to measure the
intrinsic force of human passions, we should find,
in the case of Bacon, that the degree of warmth
belonging to his heart stood very close to zero.
His practical ends were to him of more value
than the dictates of his own feelings. When
both were in harmony, we might be certain to
find in Bacon one of the most amiable of men;
but the least collision would at once destroy the
equilibrium of his natural benevolence. If he
were compelled to make a choice between the
practical objects of his life and the promptings
of his heart,— between his interest and his friend,

INFIDELITY TO ESSEX. 19

—we may be perfectly sure that Bacon would
always have given the preference to the former.
He attempted, indeed, to effect a reconciliation
between them, and would have been much
pleased if his experiment had succeeded; but
as soon as it had failed, and Bacon saw the
impossibility of success, he made up his mind to
sacrifice his friend, and this sacrifice was made
with small compunction.

We thus have a thorough explanation of the
saddest episode of Bacon’s life,—of the part which
he played as counsel for the Crown against the
Earl of Essex. Here was the hardest collision
into which his interests could be brought. It
was a collision not between duty and inclination,
but between selfishness and friendship. Essex
had loved him with passionate affection, and had
loaded him with a multitude of favours, which he
had repaid with as much devotion as was com-
patible with his passionless temperament. What
he loved in Essex was not so much the friend as
the powerful favourite, who was of service to him.
The favourite fell, and Bacon’s friendship was
put to a test that it could not stand. It failed in
a manner that unhappily was as much in accord-
ance with Bacon’s character as it is repulsive to
our feelings, notwithstanding its consistency with

our explanation of his moral disposition. He
c 2

20 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

really made every effort to save Essex without
danger to himself. The attempt failed; the pas-
sionate and unlawful acts which the reckless
Essex allowed himself to commit made this abso-
lutely impossible. Bacon was forced to make a
choice between him and the queen. He made
such a choice as was consonant to his nature.
It was the queen’s will that he should himself
support the prosecution and publicly defend the
execution of Essex after it had taken place. He
did support the prosecution, he did write the
defence; in both cases plainly showing that he
did not act in accordance with his feelings, but
had still only one motive, that of pleasing the
queen. When she desired him to defend, by a
written statement, the execution that had taken
place, Bacon expressed his gratification that Her
Majesty had “ taken a liking of his pen.” When
under the government of James I. the friends of
Essex regained their influence, Bacon did every-
thing to obliterate the memory of this proceeding.
He heartily congratulated the Earl of South-
ampton on his liberation from the confinement to
which friendship for Essex and participation in
his fortunes had brought him; and the written
avowal of Bacon on this occasion was very cha-
racteristic and very true. He assured the Earl
that the change of the throne had wrought in

SUBSERVIENCE TO BUCKINGHAM. 21

him no other change than this, “that he could
be safely that to him now which he had ¢éruly
been before.” In these few lines Bacon has de- |
picted himself with the most naive candour.

We see how much this moral character was
subject to external influences, how fitted it was
to conform itself to every change of circum-
stance. This moral pliability is not far removed
from venality, which, indeed, it becomes as soon
as motives are derived not from the conscience,
but from the force of external relations: Devoid
of rigid conscientiousness, and also devoid of
those strong passions which rule the mind after a
fashion of their own, such characters constantly
succumb to the corrupting influences from with-
out. On these alone does it depend what form
the venality will take, and to what a degree
it will mount. And the circumstances amid
which Bacon lived as a powerful and likewise
complaisant tool caused his natural venality to
take the grossest form of bribery, and to be
heightened to actual crime. There was nothing
in his moral disposition that he could oppose to
such pernicious agencies. He subjected himself
and his high position as Lord Keeper of the
Great Seal of England to the power and in-
fluence of a courtier. Because Buckingham

exercised the strongest influence over the king,
© 3

22 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

so was his influence irresistible to Bacon. It
was impossible to renounce the support of the
influential courtier, and as little could Bacon
guide the inconsiderate man by his own superior
views. He therefore yielded to him, and became
an accomplice in the wrongful acts by which
Buckingham enriched himself, allowing him to
grant patents for hard cash and sell monopolies,
which did manifest injury to the country. What
was still worse, he tolerated the interference of
the royal favourite in his own judicial acts, and
the decisions which he subscribed often emanated
from Buckingham. Bacon knew well enough that
corruption of the legal tribunals is one of the
worst evils that can befal a state; nevertheless he
allowed the Crown and its officers to interfere in
suits, and to secure the favour of the judges for
itself or its clients; he actually did that which,
with his own correct views, he never should have
permitted ; he allowed himself to be bribed, and
sold his decisions. By these illegal means he is
said to have gained a rich booty; his enemies
estimated his spoils at 100,000 pounds. This
rapacity did not arise from grovelling avarice,
but from a reckless love of magnificence. Bacon,
as far as his own person was concerned, was
moderate and abstemious;. but he liked to keep
up a magnificent establishment and make a bril-

TASTE FOR LUXURY. 23

liant figure in society. Luxury offered fas-
cinations which he could not resist; his rash
expenditure exceeded his means, and thus he
loaded himself with a weight of debt which he
could only lighten by means of unlawful and
unjustifiable gains. Here Bacon and his fortunes
appear in a truly pitiful light, namely, with the
stamp of mere vulgar recklessness upon them.
To a life in which luxury, debt, and dishonesty,
always logically enough connected, appear in inti-
mate union, we attach, according to the laws of
analogy and experience, a character that has
nothing in common with greatness and independ-
ence of mind. Nor did the pecuniary difficulties
of Bacon begin with the lustre of his official posi-
tion. It appears that he always had a taste for
immoderate luxury. At any rate, we know that
before the episode with Essex, a goldsmith caused
him to be arrested in the street for debt.

The fate of Bacon came upon him as the Ne-
mesis of some hero of antiquity. It allowed him
to rise to the highest pinnacle of felicity, that it
might thence strike him down with rapid and ter-
rific blows. In a few moments the proud edifice
of his fortune, the edifice which he had carefully
constructed with the toil of years, lay before him
a disgraceful ruin.

Under James I. he had, by the favour of that
c4

24 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

monarch, mounted the highest steps of the state
ladder. Knighted on James’s accession to the
throne, Bacon became, in 1604, King’s Counsel
with a salary, in 1607 Solicitor-General, in 1613
Attorney-General, in 1616 (through the influence
of Buckingham) Counsellor of State, in 1617 Lord
Keeper of the Great Seal, and in 1618 Lord
High Chancellor of England.* While in London
he led a brilliant life at York House. His vaca-
tions he devoted to a Tusculan leisure at Gor-
hambury, where he occupied himself with literary
Jabours and gardening. Here he kept up a
scientific intercourse with several persons, in-
cluding Thomas Hobbes, whose vocation it was
further to carry out the Baconian philosophy, and
whom Mr. Macaulay terms the most “ vigorous
and acute of human intellects.” When on the
summit of his political career he was further
elevated, with great ceremony on the part of the
Court, to the dignities of Baron of Verulam and
Viscount St. Alban. He held the highest state
office in England; and the publication of his
chef-@auvre, the “ Novum Organum,” in 1620,
stamped him as the first philosophical writer of
Europe. This was the moment when Bacon

* The above dates are from the note to Dr. Rawley’s life, in
Mr. Spedding’s edition. Dr. Fischer’s dates are not quite the
same.

CHARGE OF CORRUPTION. 25

stood upon the culminating point of power and
felicity, and was justly respected and admired by
the whole world.

Three days after his investment with the title
of Viscount St. Alban had taken place with all
solemnity, a new parliament assembled. The
public grievances were discussed,— the selfish and
mischievous grants of monopolies and patents, and
above all the abuses in the law-courts. The House
of Commons elected a Committee to investigate
these abuses. On the 15th of March, 1621, the
president of the Committee* reported that the
person against whom the charges were brought
was no less a person than the Lord Chancellor
himself, “a man,” he added, “so endued with all
parts of nature and art, as that I will say no more
of him, being not able to say enough.” The
prosecution was carried on; the cases of bribery
became more and more numerous; the articles of
the charge were twenty-three in number. A
copy of them was sent to Bacon that he might
defend himself; and at last, all evasion being
impossible, he sent to the House of Lords a
written answer, which opened thus :— ‘“ Upon
advised consideration of the charge, descending
into my own conscience, and calling my memory

* Sir Robert Phillips. —J. O.

26 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

to account so far as I am able, I do plainly and
ingenuously confess that I am guilty of cor-
ruption, and do renounce all defence, and put
myself upon the grace and mercy of your lord-
ships.” Overwhelmed with shame, the unhappy
man shut himself up in his room, and when a
deputation of the lords waited upon him, he be-
sought them “to be merciful to a broken reed.”
His confession of guilt was dictated not so much
by contrition as by policy, for the king, who
could not save him, advised him to declare him-
self guilty. He was sentenced to imprisonment
during the king’s pleasure, to a fine of 40,0002,
with the additional punishment that he was to
‘be for ever incapable of any office, place, or
employment in the state or commonwealth ; and
never sit in parliament, nor come within the verge
of the court.”* The sentence was more severe
than the judges, who felt both admiration and
pity for-the offender, and indeed it was only
carried into execution so far as form required.
After an imprisonment of no more than two days
he was liberated by the king, the other penalties
were also remitted, and he might even have re-
sumed his seat in the House of Lords in the next
session of parliament. However, he did not again

* In the original this addition is briefly expressed by the
words: “ Biirgerlicher Tod.”— J. O.

LIFE AND SCIENCE. 27

make his appearance in public life, but passed the
remainder of his days in solitary devotion to
science among the woods of Gorhambury.

If we now compare Bacon’s moral disposition
with his scientific character, we shall find between
the two not a puzzling contradiction, but, on the
contrary, a natural analogy; only the very pe-
culiarities that were injurious and perilous with
respect to his practical life were advantageous to
his scientific pursuits. As the elements of science
and life are distinct from each other, the expres-
sions of the scientific and the moral character
must be likewise different, even where they both
agree in their common source. To certain tempta-
tions the mind that seeks after truth is never ex-
posed. Certain rewards are beyond the power of
science to bestow, and for such rewards the scien-
tific character cannot think of acting. It is easy to
understand that an excessively practical intellect,
a mind that thirsts after power and distinction,
will become selfish in the affairs of worldly life,
and that such a mind, if endowed largely with
pliability, scantily with power of resistance, will
not shun crooked paths in order to attain its end,
and will at last purchase worldly gain at any
amount of moral loss. But put such a mind, with
the intellectual force belonging to it, on the path
of science; here also it will exhibit the same

28 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

traits of character that generally determine the
form of its individuality, but without the dross
with which it becomes sullied in the impure ele-
ment of worldly life. The element of science is
in itself pure. In science there are no such vices
as selfishness and venality. To transplant a cha-
racter from the moral into the scientific element,
we must leave out all that will not admit of this
operation,— every merely moral phenomenon.
Such a phenomenon, in the case of Bacon, is
the selfish and feeble character of his will. How
could this peculiarity find a scientific expression ?
What aliment could it derive from science? Mr.
Macaulay says correctly enough:—* In his library
all his rare powers were under the guidance of an
honest ambition, of an enlarged philanthropy, of a
sincere love of truth. There no temptation drew
him away from the right course. Thomas Aquinas
could pay no fees; Duns Scotus could confer no
peerages. The Master of the Sentences had no
rich reversions in his gift.” If we set aside the
difference of the elements in which Bacon’s sci-
entific and moral character move, the conformity
between them strikes us at once. Even science
itself is embraced by Bacon in a sense that in-
dubitably expresses his whole moral peculiarity.
The harmony is obvious. ‘To prove the assertion
of an original philosopher of our own country,

PRACTICAL VIEW OF SCIENCE. 29

that it is the will that produces the understand-
ing*, I would cite Bacon as an example. His
science harmonises altogether with the key-note
of his individuality and his will. He directs it,
as he directs his life, to practical ends; would
bring it into a new and fruitful combination with
worldly life, from which it has hitherto been se-
parated. All his philosophical plans are designed
to enrich science; to render it mighty, respected,
influential, generally useful. It is to be a power
among men,—a beneficent power, and therefore
universally reverenced. But science can only
enrich itself with knowledge; can only become
powerful when this knowledge is useful, prac-
tical, efficacious. Let us, then, imagine the idea
of Bacon’s life transplanted into the region of sci-
ence: to what could it direct its efforts but to the
acquisition of a vast store of useful and potent
knowledge? How can this treasure be acquired
but by a dexterous intellect, with an eye to real
life, and an aptitude for worldly experience? In-
stead of the riches which he seeks, Bacon finds in
the science that exists its very opposite; the deep-
est poverty, scanty knowledge, and that empty
and unserviceable, while, to complete the gene-
ral wretchedness, there is an infatuated belief

* Arthur Schopenhauer must be the philosopher here in- /
tended.— J. O.

30 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

that all this is marvellous wealth. If Bacon,
therefore, is to carry out his own will in science,
no other course is left, but to deprive the science
that already exists of its idle conceit, and, since
it cannot become richer than it is, to erect a new
profitable science in its place. Thus arises in
his mind the idea of a scientific Instauratio
Magna. ‘To enrich science he must reform it,
open new sources to it, thoroughly change the
mode of thought to which it has hitherto been
accustomed. The tree of knowledge, which
Bacon found, had ceased to bear fruit; nothing
but dry leaves could be shaken from its branches,
and with this occupation, as Bacon saw, the
learned by profession employed themselves to
their own infinite satisfaction. Bacon had made
himself acquainted with scholastic learning, and
to the question, as to what he had found in the
books of the schools, he replied with the answer
of Hamlet to Polonius : —“ Words — words—
words.” This dead, antiquated word- learning
was, if he could carry out his intent, to be suc-
ceeded by a new, fruitful science, springing up
with youthful life.

From the character of Bacon we may infer in

'what sense, and in what sense only, he could

reform science. Open to the world, greedy for
honour and distinction, full of interest for pub-

&

COOLNESS OF TEMPERAMENT. 31

lic life, as he himself was, he wished to make sci- |
ence think practically, to direct her understanding |
to realities alone, at the same time rendering this
understanding so calm and subtle that it could
contemplate things without prejudice, and investi- —
gate them properly. For this purpose science —
required a guiding method. Such a method
Bacon laid down. It required a number of
expedients to overcome the difficulties of the un-
wonted route. Bacon discovered these expedients
with his own peculiar adroitness; he gave his
theory the movable, pliable form that could en-
tirely accommodate itself to circumstances, al-
ways discover the assailable side, find the proper
handle for every case. This scientific tendency
and the genius of Bacon were completely made
for each other. I say again: the science, which
Bacon proposed to himself, was highly favoured by
his moral constitution. With respect to the pas-
sions he was in a position of natural and therefore
happy neutrality. His mind, never misled, never
dazzled, never abandoned to the sway of ex-
clusive affections, never chained to objects of the
heart, could, with all the deeper interest and with
all the greater clearness, direct itself to a com-
prehensive whole. His cool heart supported his
penetrating intellect. The science that Bacon
contemplated required above everything a sober,

32 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

cold intellect, to which the coolness of his affec-
‘tions was highly favourable. In science he would
only allow the anatomical analysis of things; the
operation of the understanding, that armed with
an instrument palpably enters into the interior of
/ asubject.* On this account he necessarily smo-
| thered all feelings connected with the tastes or
the affections. It may be remarked, by the way,
that Bacon even desired vivisection for the in-
terests of science.

In a word, Bacon’s character was as practical,
as cool, as supple as the science which he desired and
E prescribed for his age. All those personal pecu-
" liarities which cast so many shadows upon his

life appear as so many bright places in his science,
for which he was exactly fitted, not only by his
head, but by his heart. A man’s merit must
never be judged without his brains, nor the brains
without the man. The lines which in Bacon
mark the direction of his practical life and his
science are not divergent, but parallel. The same
man who, being at first a poor barrister, could make
himself a powerful Lord Chancellor, also made

* The German word is “ object,” but this is one of the cases
in which that word is best rendered in English by “subject,”
to which it generally stands in direct contradiction.—J. O.

HOSTILITY TO SCHOLASTICISM. aa

at first, a disciple of the Aristotelian philosophy
as taught by the schoolmen. In the spheres both
of politics and of science his aspiring genius was
early manifested. When in 1577*, a boy of six-
teen, he quitted the University of Cambridge, he
already felt disgusted with the scholastic philo-
sophy. We do not mean to maintain that he
then saw his way plainly before him, and had
clearly apprehended his plans of reform. A
paper which might have furnished information on
the subject is, unfortunately, lost. The later
writings with which we are acquainted show that
Bacon, at least to outward appearance, used great
caution in abandoning the scholastic philosophy.
In his “ Cogitata et Visat,” which was the first
sketch of his “ Novum Organum,” Bacon ap-
peared, for the first time, as the open and decided
adversary of the scholastic philosophy, while the
spirit that appears in the first sketch of his second
great work, “De Dignitate et Augmentis Scientia-

* According to Mr. Spedding, Bacon left Cambridge 1575,.—
J. O.

+ Published in 1612. The work “ De Sapientia Veterum ”
appeared in the same year. The chronology of Bacon’s works
is sometimes uncertain, and is so in this case. We take Lord
Campbell for our guide—Author’s note. [The “ Cogitata et
Visa” was sent to Bodley in 1607, as can be proved by a letter
of Bodley’s now extant —J. O.]

D

34 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

rum,”* although foreign to the system of the
schools, is not so unequivocally hostile. Even
this trait is truly Baconian. He approached his
goal step by step, looking far, and expressing
himself cautiously. The part that Bacon in-
tended to play in science, and the strong feeling
he entertained of his own scientific power long
before he boldly expressed his views, may be
gathered from one of his letters to his uncle,
Lord Burleigh, who probably, from selfish mo-
tives, did not assist him in his political career.
He writes in the year 1591: “I confess that I
have as vast contemplative ends as I have moderate
civil ends, for I have taken all knowledge to be
my providence (province ?); and if I could purge it
of two sorts of rovers, whereof the one with frivo-
lous disputations, confutations, and verbosities ;
the other, with blind experiments and auricular
traditions and impostures, hath committed so many
spoils; I hope I should bring in industrious ob-
servations, grounded conclusions, and profitable
inventions and discoveries, the best state of that

* The first outline of this work bears the title, “ The Two
Books of Francis Bacon of the Proficience and Advancement of
Learning, Divine and Human,” and was published in 1605.
The Latin translation, in which the work was considerably
enlarged, appeared in nine books, under the title given in the
text, in the year 1623.— Author’s note.

PROGRESS IN LIFE AND SCIENCE. 35

providence (province ?).” What Bacon always
desired in science is here expressed in a few
words. His plans were as sober and practical as
was possible in the region of science. But what
thinker to this day can escape the imputation of
being a dreamer? In such a light did Bacon,
who wished to awaken science from her long
dream, appear to the Burleighs; in such a light
they represented him to Queen Elizabeth.
Bacon’s political career exactly corresponded
to his progress in science. His efforts in both
were directed to great ends; in both he started
with far-seeing projects, and achieved brilliant
results. During a tour in France, whither, after
leaving Cambridge, he accompanied the English
ambassador*, he wrote, at the early age of nine-
teen, a treatise on the state of Europe (“ De
Statu Europe”). In 1580f the death of his
father called him back; and soon afterwards he
drew up his first philosophical sketch, which has
not been preserved, and which bears the pompous
title, “Temporis partum Maximum.” By his
“ Essays,” published in 1597, he became one of
the most widely read and popular authors in
England. In the reign of James I. he rose in

* Sir Amyas Paulet.—J. O.
+ According to Mr. Spedding, in February, 1578-9.

D 2

36 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

philosophical importance as he rose in office. The
sketch of his “ Novum Organum,” entitled ‘ Co-

’ appeared in the year when he

gitata et Visa,’
was made Attorney-General, and the “ Novum
Organum ” itself crowned his philosophical career
at the very moment when his political career had
ended with the dignity of Chancellor.

If Bacon had a passion which sincerely and
powerfully occupied his mind, it was the passion
for science alone. Science was the only friend
to whom he remained true; she accompanied
him through his restless and busy life, and to her
did the ever-active man return in the hours of
his leisure. The thirst for science was his greatest
ambition ; this alone he could never satisfy ; and
its gratification constituted the real purpose and
the purest felicity of his life. This passion con-
soled and elevated the fallen man in his misfortunes
after all his other ambitious efforts were hope-
lessly thwarted, and it remained faithful to him
till death. Science was Bacon’s last destiny, and
even death bore witness to her fidelity. He died
on the morning of Easter Sunday (April 9th)
1626, in consequence of a physical experiment * ;

* Thinking that flesh might possibly be preserved as well in
snow as in salt, he alighted from his coach at the bottom of
Highgate Hill, while snow was lying on the ground, and buying

SCIENCE HIS LAST DESTINY. 37

and one of the first sentences which, with his
dying hand, he wrote to a friend, was this: “'The
experiment succeeded excellently well.”

a hen at the house of a poor woman, made the experiment on the
spot. The snow chilled him, and not being able to return to
Gray’s Inn, where he then resided, he was taken to the Earl of
Arundel’s house, where he was put into a damp bed. The
letter cited above was addressed to Lord Arundel, at whose
house he died.—J. O,

38

CHAP. 3i,

INVENTION AS THE PROBLEM OF THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY.

We hasten to protest against an error respect-
ing the Baconian philosophy that is widely diffused,
and has taken deep root in Germany especially.
The judgment formed of Bacon by the majority
is to this effect, that he was a very fertile and
suggestive, but by no means a consistent* thinker ;
that the constitution of his philosophy is deficient
in rigidly scientific connection and in logical se-
quence of its different parts, and that, perhaps,
this deficiency arises from internal causes. If
by consistency they mean systematic form, they
are quite right in denying it to the Baconian
philosophy. There are philosophies that neither
can nor are intended to be systems; and the
Baconian is one of them. But system and econ-
sistency are by no means identical. The syste-
matic course of ideas is confined within narrow

* “Kein consequenter Denker.” The word “consistent” is
too strong to be an equivalent for “consequent,” but its exact
force in this place will, I trust, be apparent from the context.
—J. O.

THE TWO MODES OF THOUGHT. 39

limits, and may be compared to a movement in a
circular track; the (merely) consistent course,
while it admits of logical deduction from its
premises, can as well return upon itself, as
admit of continuance in an infinite line. And
this last is the course designedly taken by the
Baconian philosophy ; it purposely avoids the
systematic circle; but on the path it has chosen
it pursues a logical and well-connected chain of
thought. The very fact that this consistency in
the Baconian philosophy has been so little under-
stood and appreciated, renders it our especial duty
to remove all doubts respecting its logical sound-
ness. Two faults, that have been commonly
committed in forming notions respecting Bacon,
have led to the errors against which we are now
contending. One fault consists in that hasty
knowledge which ever dwells on the surface of
the Baconian philosophy, and does not penetrate
to its centre. This surface presents, indeed, a
motley aspect. The second fault consists in
beginning with a wrong point of view when
following out Bacon’s course of ideas. Thus con-
templated, the sequence certainly looks arbitrary
enough. But of what sort is the contemplation ?

Every rigid course of thought is determined
by two points, that from which it proceeds, and
that to which it tends; the former is the starting-

D 4

40 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

point, the latter is the goal. The question is,
which of these two points is first given, first
apprehended in the mind; whether the thought
first settles its starting-point, and then by a
logical progress seeks its goal, or whether it
first takes a clear view of its goal, and then con-
siders which road it must pursue, and from what
point it must set out? Logical thought is possible
in both cases; but in the former case the mode
of thought is different from that in the latter.
There, my first thought is the premiss, and the
further course of ideas consists solely of legiti-
mate conclusions. Here, my first thought is the
goal, and with respect to that my premiss 1s
framed. Here I reason thus: this is my goal
which stands as something necessary, and to be
attained at all events; now such and such are
the means which will bring me to that end, and
these means themselves form a chain, the first link
of which is my starting-point, and in this sense
my premiss. Thus I reason from the goal to
the starting-point. If my conclusions are rightly
drawn, the course of my ideas is unquestionably
logical (consequent), but its order and its direction
are diametrically opposite to those of the other
course of ideas, which from the given starting-
point proceeds to the not-given goal. Both
modes of thought are legitimate, but they differ

ANALYTICAL MODE OF THOUGHT. 41

both in course and in tendency. Each has it:
own point of view, and a method depending
upon it. If the thought tends to a principle, its»
guiding-point is an aziom*; if it tends to a goal
that is to be attained, its guiding-point is a
problem. Axioms suggest deductions; problems
require solution. In the one case, I ask, what
will follow from this principle? In the other,
how shall I solve this problem? In both cases
logical and methodical thought is required. The
first method may be called that of deductions, the

second that of solutions; the former is the synthetic, © =

the latter the analytic method. For every de-
duction is a synthesis, every solution is an analysis. |
Now I maintain that a mind whose first thought
is not a principle, but a problem to be solved,
and which begins by proposing to itself a goal
that is to be reached, —I maintain, I say, that
its natural course of ideas must be followed and
represented by us. First, it apprehends the pro-
blem,—the goal that hovers before it in the dis-
tance, —then the means of solution in a regular
sequence down to the first link, which offers the
scientific starting-point for the solution itself.
Such a mind was the mind of Bacon. Nota

* “ Grundsatz,.” Literally, “ fundamental proposition.” —J. O.

42 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

principle, but a problem constitutes the first
thought and guiding-point of his whole philosophy.
He first clearly apprehends his goal, then he
reflects on the right means for infallibly attaining
it. Through the whole course of his ideas he
never turns his eyes from this goal, but always
keeps it steadily in view. This setting up of
goals belonged to the nature of his thought,
which was therefore thoroughly analytical in its
method. Bacon himself thought as he wished
science in general to think; that is to say, he
analysed things. His mind was made not to
deduce from principles, but to solve problems ;
and as Bacon thought, and indeed could alone
think, in consequence of the peculiarity of his
mind, so will he be regarded and represented by
us,—as an analytical thinker. Every other mode
of representing him is erroneous. His analytical
reasoning is in the highest degree close and con-
sistent. To discover in Bacon this character of
a logical thinker, we must first suppose the
problem with and in his mind, then seek the
means of solution; first set up the goal, then
discover and smooth the road to it. He is wrongly
understood when, as is commonly the case, his
thoughts are set forth synthetically, just as though
the mode of his thinking resembled that of
Descartes or Spinoza. We cannot give a synthe-

SPIRIT OF BACON’S AGE. 43

tical representation of an analytical thinker without
perverting his close and logical sequence of ideas
into one that is arbitrary and unconnected, and thus
greatly diminishing his philosophical worth ; for it
is obvious that the analytical reasoning from such
and such a proposed end to such and such means
of attaining it is perfectly close and legitimate ;
while, on the other hand, the synthetical reasoning
from the means to the end will always appear
loose and doubtful. The end despotically demands
the appropriate means; on the other hand, the
means can lead to many ends, and why should I
infer one in particular? Such an inference would
be arbitrary. If we assume that Bacon proposed
to himself a problem that he could only solve
by experience, and indeed only by one kind of
experience, we must concede that he was per-
fectly justified in elevating this to a principle.
But if, on the other hand, Bacon had set out from
experience as a first principle, innumerable roads
might have led him from this point to innumerable
ends. Why, then, did he choose this one parti-
cular road, and this one particular end? Here
what has just now appeared a necessary thought
becomes a mere arbitrary caprice; and it is asa
necessary sequence of thought that the Baconian
philosophy is to be comprehended and exhibited.
This is impossible, so long as it is synthetically

44 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

treated ; and that which to Bacon himself was an
inference or an intermediate proposition is laid
down as a fundamental principle. It is useless to
repeat over and over again that Bacon set out
from experience. We may just as well say that
Columbus was a navigator, while the principal
point is that he discovered America. Mere
navigation was as little the leading thought of
Columbus as mere experience was the leading
thought of Bacon.

l.

I. Tue BaconrAn Point oF VIEW.

DISCOVERY AND INVENTION.

What is the point of view that commands the
Baconian philosophy from the beginning to the
end? Bacon found this point of view by com-
prehending the problem of his age, and appro-
priating it to himself. This age was shaken to
its very vitals by those reformatory forces that,
had been awakened in the preceding centuries.
A revolution had made its appearance, which
brought with it a change, both internal and
external, in human affairs, and introduced a crisis
in civilisation, through which tendencies and aims.
were set before man totally different from those
which he had previously followed. With his

oy

SPIRIT OF BACON’S AGR. 45

penetrating intellect, Bacon comprehended the
altered physiognomy of his age; he sought for
the ultimate causes of the change, and wished to
make philosophy accord with it. For the new
life and its impulses he wished to find a new cor-
responding logic. Philosophy professes to be the
love of truth. Bacon would suit this truth to the
times. “It is the greatest weakness,” he says,
**to attribute infinite credit to authors; but to
refuse to Time, the author of all authors, and there-
fore of all authority, its own prerogative. For

-truth is rightly called the daughter of Time, not

of authority.”* Again: “The opinion which
men cherish of antiquity is altogether idle, and
scarcely agrees with the term. For the old age and
increasing years of the world should in truth be
regarded as antiquity, and these are to be attri-
buted to our times, not to that younger period
of the world, such as it was in the days of
the (so-called) ancients. For that period, with
respect to ourselves, was ancient and older; with
respect to the world itself, modern and younger.”+

* “Summz pusillanimitatis est authoribus infinita tribuere,
authori autem authorum atque adeo omnis authoritatis, Tempori,
jus suum denegare. Recte enim Veritas Temporis filia dicitur,
non Authoritatis.”—Nov. Org. I. Aph. 84.

Tt “De antiquitate autem, opinio quam homines de ipsa fovent
negligens omnino est, et vix verbo ipsi congrua. Mundi enim

senium et grandevitas pro antiquitate vere habenda sunt 3 que
temporibus nostris tribui debent, non juniori xtati mundi, qualis

—

46 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

The world in course of time has become older,
richer, more comprehensive; science should be
raised to suit this advanced state of the world.
The limits of the material world are extended,
and the intellectual world should not remain
within its former boundaries. Thus the problem
lproposed by Bacon is this:—So to extend the
intellectual world (globus intellectualis) that it
may be able to comprehend the material world,

/such as the latter has become. “ It would be dis-
‘honourable to man if the regions of the material
\ globe, viz. the lands, the seas, and the stars, should

be so immensely revealed in our age, and yet
the boundaries of the intellectual world should be
confined to the discoveries and straits of the
ancients.” *
What now were the powers that set this new life |
in motion, and put the middle ages “out of joint?”
What were the mighty changes that stamped
Bacon’s age as new, and fundamentally different
from all that had preceded it? The political, sci-
entific, and geographical conditions of the world

apud antiquos fuit. Illa enim extas, respectu nostri antiqua et
major, respectu mundi ipsius nova et minor fuit.”—Vov. Org. I.
A ph. 84.

* « Quin et turpe hominibus foret, si globi materialis tractus,
terrarum videlicet, marium, astrorum, nostris temporibus im-

mensum aperti et illustrati sint ; globi autem intellectualis fines |

inter veterum inventa et angustias cohibeantur.”— Ibid.

ii
THE AGE OF REFORMS. 47

had one after another experienced a thorough
reform. The material and intellectual position of
mankind had become quite different since new
expedients had removed the ancient limits of war,
science, and navigation. The reform in the art of
war was based upon the invention of gunpowder ;
in science upon the invention of printing; in
navigation upon the invention of the compass,

without which the discovery of the new world,

would have been impossible. Discovery, there-|

fore, which was itself dependent upon invention, {,,(»

constituted the civilising impulse of that new

epoch, the spirit of which had penetrated Bacon. |

Here Bacon discovers the secret of his time, its
essential difference from antiquity and the middle
ages — the goal to which science must henceforth
be directed, and which philosophy should alone
consider.*

The inventive spirit of man had fashioned the
new age. Hitherto this had been kept down,
either because it was lightly esteemed, or because
the means of liberating it had been wanting —

because there was no intellect to comprehend and -

regulate it. This, then, was the problem appre-
hended by Bacon and proposed to his age: — The!
subjection of science to the spirit of invention,
and the liberation of this spirit from the chance

* Compare “ De Augment. Scient.,” Lib, V., Cap. 2.

PONE aban

pn emtamiatii

—

48 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

by which human inventions had previously been

' governed. He would establish a new logic, corre-

sponding to the spirit of invention, by which man
might deliberately and therefore more frequently
achieve what he had previously achieved, as it were,
by a mere chance, and therefore but seldom; that
he might no longer find, but invent.* Exactly thus _
does Bacon formulise the problem_of his philo-
sophy ; thus does he define it in his “ Cogitata.
et Visa,” the concise programme to his “ Novum
Organum.” Chance, which has hitherto been the
cause_of inventions, is to be changed into design ;
art (ars) is to take the place of luck (casus). “He
thought that if many discoveries chance to men
not seeking them, but otherwise employed, no one
could doubt that if the same men were to seek
discoveries, and that not by fits and starts, but
by rule and order, many more things would neces-
sarily be discovered. For though it may happen
once or twice that some one by chance hits upon
what has hitherto escaped him, while making every
effort in the inquiry, yet without doubt the con-
trary will happen in the long run. For chance
works rarely, and tardily, and without order; but
art constantly, rapidly, and in an orderly manner.

* « Nicht finden, sondern erfinden.” There is an antithesis in
the German words which cannot be reproduced in English.

—J. O.

BACON THE PHILOSOPHER OF INVENTION. 49

From those inventions also which have already
been brought to light, he thought it might be .
most truly conjectured respecting those that are
yet hidden. But of these, that some were of such
a kind that before they were discovered surmises
concerning them would not readily occur to any
one’s mind. For men commonly guess at new
things by the example of the old, and the fancies
they have derived from the latter; which mode
of conjecture is most fallacious, since those things
that are sought from the fountain-head do not
necessarily flow through the accustomed channels.
Thus, if some one before the invention of cannon
had described it and its effects, and had said that
a certain thing had been discovered by means of.
which walls and the strongest fortifications might
be shaken and battered down from a long dis-
tance, men would certainly have formed many
and various conjectures as to how the power of
missive engines and machines might be multiplied
_ by weights, wheels, and the like ; but the notion
of a fiery wind would scarcely have occurred to
any one, inasmuch as none of them could have
seen an example of the sort, except perhaps in
an earthquake or thunder-storm, which they would
have rejected from consideration, as things not to
be imitated. In the same manner, if before the
invention of silken thread some one had talked in
E

50 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

this fashion, affirming that there was a certain
thread useful for dress and furniture, which far
surpassed linen and woollen thread in fineness,
and at the same time in strength, and also in gloss
and softness, men would at once have begun to
guess some sort of vegetable silk, or the more
delicate hair of some animal, or the feathers and
down of birds; whereas if any one had dropped
a hint about a worm, he would certainly have
been laughed to scorn for dreaming of some new
webs of spiders. . . . . So awkward and ill-con-
ditioned is the human mind in this case of in-
vention, that in some things it is first diffident,
and ever afterwards despises itself; so that first
it seems incredible that such and such a thing
could be invented, but after it has been invented
it then seems incredible that it could have escaped
the notice of man so long.”*

Herein, then, consists Bacon’s principle, which
is not defined with sufficient accuracy when, as is

+ commonly the case, he is called the “ Philosopher

of Experience.” This expression is too vague and
broad. Bacon is the philosopher of Invention; at
least his only endeavour is philosophically to com-
‘ prehend and fortify the inventive spirit of man.
From this point alone is his opposition to anti-

* Cogitata et Visa, towards the end.

THE THREE INVENTIONS. 51

quity and his new philosophy to be explained.
This philosophy is as boundless as the region of
invention. It is a movable instrument, not a
fixed edifice of dogmas. It will not endure the
confinement of system, the fetters of the school,
the universality and completeness of theory. “Our
determination is,” says Bacon, “ to try whether _
we can really lay firmer foundations and extend
to a greater distance the limits of human power
and dignity. And although, here and there, upon
some special points we hold (as we think) more ~
true, more certain, and even more profitable tenets
than those hitherto adopted, yet we offer no uni-
versal or complete theory.” *

Just as Plato detected, and, we may say, gave

\| a logical expression to the spirit that dwelt in the

poetry and art of the Greeks, so does Bacon direct
his glance to the spirit of invention by which
those discoveries were made that lie at the foun-
dation of his age. The two philosophers bear the
same relation to each other, and are as much dis-
tinguished from each other as the ages in which

* “Nobis constitutum est, experiri, an revera potentie et am-
plitudinis humane firmiora fundamenta jacere ac fines in
latius proferre possimus, Atque licet sparsim, et in aliquibus
subjectis specialibus, longe veriora habeamus et certiora (ut arbi-
tramur), atque etiam magis fructuosa, quam quibus homines
adhue utuntur, tamen theoriam nullam universalem, aut inte.
gram proponimus,”—Nov. Org. I. 116,

E 2

52 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

they lived. Both direct their thoughts to human
art. But the art to which the Greek philosopher
| corresponds is the theoretic, self-sufficient art of

& [rarer beauty in form; whereas that which finds its
\representative in Bacon is the practical, inven-
“tion-seeking art of human utility. Bacon himself
declares, at the end of the first book of his
« Novum Organum:” “ Let any one consider how .
great is the difference between the life of man in
the more polished countries of Europe, and that
in some wild and barbarous region of the New
Indies. He will deem the difference so great,
that man may be rightly called a god unto man,
not only on account of assistance and benefits,
but also by a comparison of moral conditions.
And this is the result not of the soil, not of the
climate, not of any material body, but of the arts.
It is profitable to note the force, effect, and con-
sequences of things invented, which are nowhere
more manifest than in these three, which were
unknown to the ancients, and the beginnings of
which, though recent, are obscure and without
glory, viz., the art of printing, gunpowder, and
the mariner’s compass. For these three have
changed the aspect and condition of the whole
earth; first, in literature; secondly, in warfare ;
thirdly, in navigation. Whence innumerable
changes have been derived, so that no empire,

THE THREE INVENTIONS. 53

sect, or star seems to have exercised greater
power or influence over human affairs than these
mechanical inventions.” *

We need only apprehend the idea of invention | Jf ;
with analytical clearness to perceive the peculiar he Sa
character of the Baconian philosophy, its object, ola a ,
its constitution, and its opposition to antiquity.

Its sole object is to effect such a reform and
extension of human science that this may turn to
invention as its chief end, and to furnish science

with an instrument which is as well fitted to

make inventions, as a thermometer to measur
heat. This instrument is the Logic of Inventio
(ratio inveniendi), which makes the human under
standing think in such a manner that it invent
by necessity. Bacon explains inventive thought ;
he seeks the method of invention. While he \

exhibits this, he formulises the spirit, and hits the
central point of his age, more especially fortifying
the peculiar talent and impulse of his own nation.
The method of invention is the instrument with
which Bacon would equip science, and render
it capable of conquering the world. This in-
strument is the “* Novum Organum,” which Bacon
opposes to the “ Organon” of Aristotle. He bears
the same relation to antiquity as his “ Organum”

* “Rursus (si placet) reputet quispiam, quantum intersit,”
&e.— Nov, Org. I. 129,

E 3

wn if
Pe a

lad

54 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

to that of Aristotle. Bacon analyses invention as
Aristotle analyses the form of propositions.

Yl. Tue Dominion or Man.

(REGNUM HOMINIS.)

Invention is the aim of science; but what is
the aim of invention? Usefulness to man, which
consists in this, that the wants of his life are
satisfied, his pleasures multiplied, and his power

_gincreased. In one word, the dominion of man |

over things is the highest and indeed the sole
end of science; an end which can only be attained
by means of inventions. Science should serve
man,—should make him powerful. We cannot
be made powerful otherwise than by science, for
our power over things is solely based on our
knowledge of their nature. Power consists in
being able; but ability presupposes knowledge.
Man can only act so far as he knows; his capa-.
bility reaches only so far as his knowledge; or, as
Bacon expresses himself at the commencement of
the “ Novum Organum:” “ Human science and
human power coincide.” *

Science is, with Bacon, not the sole all-sufficient
end in itself, but the means to a further end. This

* “Scientia et potentia humana in idem coincidunt.”—Nov.
Org. I. 3.

THE DOMINION OF MAN. 55 re,

Chine
absolute end is the reign of man; the means to ios FB
attain this end are given by invention; the means h ao vs
of invention are furnished by science. Thus, in “|
Bacon’s eyes, science is eminently practical ; its f Be
measure is human life, its value consists in its ©
utility to man. The further the utility extends
the greater is the invention, and the greater also
are the value and power of the science that belongs
to it. A science that is not practically useful is,
in Bacon’s eyes, worth nothing. To his practical
mind there is no self-sufficient theory estranged
from life, and, on the other hand, there is nothing
in human life that is to be deemed unworthy o
investigation, or despised as an object for the
understanding. Science no more distinguishes
anything as low and vulgar, than the sun over
our heads: ‘“ With regard to the meanness or
even filthiness of those things, which, as Pliny
says, are not to be mentioned without an apology,
they must be admitted into Natural History,
no less than those which are most magnificent
and precious. Nor is Natural History polluted
thereby; for the sun equally enters palaces and
sewers, nor is he therefore polluted. We neither
dedicate nor raise a capitol or pyramid to human
pride, but we found a holy temple in the human
mind, on the model of the universe. * This model,
therefore, we follow. Whatever is worthy of

E 4

56 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

being, is likewise worthy of knowledge, which is
the image of being. Now the mean and splendid
alike exist.” *

Ill. Tue INTERPRETATION OF NATURE.

(INTERPRETATIO NATURZ.)

}

{ Karewlid’s
é

mvceet The reign of man is the aim of invention. But

4

g I . what are its means? What are the conditions
ae “ander which alone invention is possible? We
te ioe “cannot govern things without knowing them, and
this knowledge, which at once renders objects

transparent and subservient to us, can only be

attained by long intercourse,—by intimate ac-
quaintance. ‘To understand things we must asso-
ciate with them, as with men,—live in the midst of
them. “ We must,” says Bacon, “ bring men to
particulars themselves, and their series and orders,
and men must for awhile prevail upon themselves

* “Quod vero ad rerum vilitatem attinet, vel etiam turpitudi-
nem, quibus (ut ait Plinius) honos prefandus est ; ez res, non
minus quam lautissimz et pretiosissime, in Historiam Natu-
ralem recipiende sunt. Neque propterea polluitur Naturalis
Historia ; sol enim szque palatia et cloacas ingreditur, neque
tamen polluitur, Nos autem non Capitolium aliquod aut pyra-
midem hominum superbiz dedicamus aut condimus, sed templum
sanctum ad exemplar mundi in intellectu humano fundamus.
Itaque exemplar sequimur. Nam quicquid essentia dignum est,
id etiam scientia dignum, que est essentia imago. At vilia
eque subsistunt atque lauta.”—Vov. Org. I. 120.

THE INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 57

to cast aside their (pre-conceived) notions, and
to form an acquaintance with the things them-
selves.”* This acquaintance or intercourse with
things consists in experience. Just as a know-
ledge of man is not to be obtained by construction
from abstract notions ; so is it with the knowledge
of things. Science should be the correct image
of the world; this it can only become by an ex-
perience of the world, that sojourns amid things
and their movements and contemplates them all
with a free, unprejudiced interest. In this sense/
Bacon makes experience the beginning of science.
Science should invent, and the road to invention
is shown by experience. In this sense is Bacon
the philosopher of experience. Invention is the |
end, and experience gives the means to that end.
But mere experience is far from being invention
in itself. Men have always had experiences,
and have them every day. Why do they not
invent in the same proportion? Simply because
that is wanting which renders experience in-
ventive? And by what means is experience
rendered inventive? How must it be so ordered
that invention is its involuntary and necessary

* “Restat nobis modus tradendi unus et simplex, ut homines
ad ipsa particularia et eorum series et ordines adducamus ; et
ut illi rursus imperent sibi ad tempus abnegationem notionum,
et cum rebus ipsis consuescere incipiant.”— Nov. Org. I. 36.

58 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

result? Under this definite formula does Bacon
conceive his problem. )

Invention is an art which differs from esthetic
art in this: that th Seems by means of the
imagination uces something beautiful; the
; by means of the understanding, produces
something useful. That which serves mankind,

augments his power, subjects to him the power of
things, is useful. The dangerous forces of nature
are brought under our dominion, and rendered sub-
servient to our uses, whether as rulers we employ
them, or as victors ward them off. Lightning
is a manifestation of natural force that threatens
us; the lightning-conductor secures us against
the threatened danger. Now to make an inven-
tion of this kind,—in fact, to produce anything
whatever by means of the understanding,—I must
know all the requisite conditions. Every inven-
tion is an application_of natural laws; and_to

apply them it is necessary to know them. We
must know what are the conditions of warmth to

invent an instrument by which warmth may be
produced. We must know the natural laws of
lightning to present the conducting point to the
destructive spark. And so in every case. Our.
power over nature is based upon our knowledge
of nature and her operative forces. If I am
ignorant of the cause, how can I produce the

KNOWLEDGE AND POWER. &9

effect? “ Knowledge and power,” says Bacon,
** coincide, since the ignorance of the cause frus-
trates the effect. Nature can only be conquered
by obedience ; and that which stands as the cause
in contemplation becomes the rule in practice.” *
Thus the right understanding of nature is the
means by which experience leads to invention.
If science is the foundation of all invention, so is
the right understanding of nature, or natural
scrence, the foundation of all knowledge. <« Al-
though,” says Bacon, “in those very ages .in
which the wit of men and literature flourished
greatly or even moderately, the smallest part of
human labour was bestowed upon Natural Philo-
sophy, this very philosophy is nevertheless to be re-
garded as the great mother of the sciences.”+ But
natural science requires a correct explanation of
nature,—a knowledge not only of her phenomena,

* “Scientia et potentia humana in idem coincidunt, quia igno-
ratio cause destituit effectum. Natura enim non nisi parendo
vincitur ; et quod in contemplatione instar cause est, id in opera-
tione instar regule est.”—Nov. Org. I. 3.

t The above is rather a condensation than a translation of
the passage (ov. Org. I. 79.) referred to, which is this : —
“ At secundo loco se offert causa illa magni certe per omnia
momenti: ea videlicet, quod per illas ipsas states, quibus
hominum ingenia et liters maxime yel etiam mediocriter floru-
erint, Naturalis Philosophia minimam partem humane opers
sortita sit. Atque hee ipsa nihilominus pro magna scientiarum
matre haberi debet.”—J. O,

60 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

but also of her laws; that is to say, a real inter-
pretation. Here is the decisive point at which
theory becomes practical, contemplative science
becomes operative, knowledge becomes produc-
tive, experience becomes inventive. And inven-
tion itself forms the transition from the interpre-
tation of nature to the dominion of man. Through
science experience becomes invention, through
invention science becomes human dominion. Our
power rests upon our invention, and this upon
our knowledge of things. In Bacon’s mind,
power and knowledge, the dominion of man, and
the scientific interpretation of nature, belong so
essentially to each other, that he treats them as
synonymous, and connects them with an “or”
(sive). His “ Novum Organum” treats “ De
Interpretatione Nature sive de Regno Hominis.”

Our power consists in knowledge: in this
truly philosophical proposition Bacon and Spinoza
are agreed. According to Bacon, knowledge
makes us inventive, and therefore powerful.
According to Spinoza, knowledge makes us free
by destroying the dominion of the passions,
and the power of external things over ourselves.
Here appears the difference of the directions
taken by the two minds. With Spinoza, our
power consists in free thought, which remains
calmly contemplating the world, and is satisfied _

KNOWLEDGE AND POWER. 61

with that condition. With Bacon, our power
consists in inventive thought, which exerts a
practical influence over the state of the world, cul-
tivating it and modifying it. The aim of Spinoza
is attained when things cease to govern us; that
of Bacon, when we govern the things. Bacon
uses the power of knowledge practically, Spinoza
theoretically ; both in the widest sense of the be wat
term. Spinoza’s aim is contemplation ; culture A, i ,
is the aim of Bacon. as

62

CHAP. He

EXPERIENCE AS THE MEANS OF INVENTION.

Tue leading points in the Baconian philosophy
stand thus:—Its ultimate purpose is the foun-
dation and augmentation of human dominion ;
the nearest means to that end are supplied by
culture, which converts physical forces into in-
struments fitted for man. Now there is no
culture without invention, which produces the
means of culture; no invention without science,
which makes us acquainted with the laws of oe
things; no science without natural philosophy ;
no natural philosophy without an interpretation
of nature that perfects itself according to the
standard of experience. From every one of
these as so many points of view Bacon may
be characterised, for each gives an essential
characteristic of his philosophy. He aims at
the culture of humanity by a skilful application
of natural science; he seeks to attain natural
science by a right use of experience. By a
correct method he would convert experience into
science; by application in the form of invention,

DEVOTION TO THE CAUSE OF SCIENCE. 63

he would convert science into art ; and this
he would convert into a practical and general
civilisation, designed for the whole race of man.
What single name will suffice adequately to
denote such a mind? By connecting his points
of view in such logical order, Bacon becomes a
great thinker. By opening the widest prospects
into the realm of science, and into the whole
sphere of human civilisation, from these points of
view, by indicating goals and setting up problems
in every direction, so that his system is nowhere
brought to a conclusion and dogmatically hedged

| round, the great thinker becomes an epoch-making

=

thinker. For it is the peculiarity of epoch-making
gainds that they are open to the future. Bacon
designed no finished system, but a living work,
that should be continued in the progress of time.
He sowed the seed for a future crop, which was
to ripen slowly, and not to attain its perfection
till centuries had elapsed. Bacon was well aware
of this; he was satisfied to be the sower, and to
begin a work which time alone could complete.
This feeling with regard to himself was neither
more nor less than a correct consciousness of his
cause. At the conclusion of his preface to the
“ Novum Organum ”* he says thus:— «Of our-

* More cofrectly, the general preface to the “ Instauratia

Magna,”— J, O,

64 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

selves we say nothing; but for the matter which
is treated, we desire that men should regard it
not as an opinion, but as a work, and should be
assured that we are laying the foundation not of
any sect or theory, but of that which conduces to
the use and dignity of man. Next, we desire that,
laying aside their jealousies and prejudices, they
may fairly consult their own common advantage,
and having been rescued by us from the errors
and obstacles of their road and furnished with our
defence and assistance, they may themselves par-
ticipate in the labours that yet remain. More-
over, that they may be strong in hope, and not
imagine that our Instauratio is something infinite
and beyond the reach of man, when it is really an
end and legitimate termination to infinite error, and
is so far mindful of the mortal lot of man that it
does not hope to accomplish its work within the
period of a single life, but leaves this to succeeding
times; when, moreover, it does not arrogantly
search for science in the narrow cells of human
wit, but humbly in the greater world.”* In the

* «De nobis ipsis silemus: de re autem que agitur petimus,
ut homines eam non opinionem, sed opus esse cogitent, ac pro
certo habeant, non secte nos alicujus aut placiti sed utilitatis et
amplitudinis humanz fundamenta moliri. Deinde ut suis com-
modis squi, exutis opinionum zelis et prejudiciis, in commune
consulant, ac ab erroribus viarum atque impedimentis, nostris
presidiis et auxillis, liberati et muniti laborum qui restant et

DEGREES OF HUMAN AMBITION. 65

same spirit is the following passage, which occurs
towards the end of the first book of the “ Novum
Organum:”— “ It will not be amiss to distinguish
three kinds, and, as it were, degrees of human
ambition ; first, that of those who desire to enlarge
their own power in their country, which is a
vulgar and degenerate kind; next, that of those
who strive to enlarge the power and dominion of
their country among the human race, which is
certainly more dignified, but no less covetous.
But if one should endeavour to renew and enlarge
the power and dominion of the human race itself
over the universe, this ambition (if so it may be
called) is, beyond a doubt, more sane and noble
than the other two. Now the dominion of men
over things depends alone on arts and sciences;
for nature is only governed by obeying her,”*

ipsi in partem veniant. Preeterea ut bene sperent, neque Instau-
rationem nostram, ut quiddam infinitum et ultra mortale fingant
et animo concipiant ; quum revera sit infiniti erroris finis et
terminus legitimus ; mortalitatis autem et humanitatis non sit
immemor ; quum rem non intra unius etatis curriculum omnino
perfici posse confidat sed successioni destinet; denique scientias
non per arrogantiam in humani ingenii cellulis, sed submisse
in mundo majore queerat.”

* “Preeterea, non abs re fuerit, tria hominum ambitionis genera
et quasi gradus distinguere. Primum eorum, qui propriam po-
tentiam in patria sua amplificare cupiunt ; quod genus vulgare
est et degener. Secundum eorum, qui patrie potentiam et
imperium inter humanum genus amplificare nituntur ; illud plus
certe habet dignitatis, cupiditatis haud minus. Quod si quis

K

tot, | Vitae

vppuded t

—

66 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.,

It is obvious that human culture depends upon
experience, and the latter upon natural science in
, the sense of an interpretation of nature. The
question remains: How does experience become
natural science? For at first it is nothing but a
perception of single facts, a collecting together of
manifold instances, an enumeration of the things
perceived, and their properties; and the experi-
ence of common minds scarcely ever rises above
this ordinary level. By what means, then, does
ordinary experience become scientific (and thus,
consequently, inventive) experience? By what
means does * Natural History ” (thus, with Bacon,
we designate the narration of particulars) become
Natural Science ?—how does historia naturalis
become scientia naturalis? By what means does
the description of nature (descriptio nature) be-
come the interpretation of nature (interpretatio
nature)? To these questions we are brought
back by the problem which Bacon negatively
proposes in the first book of the ‘* Novum Orga-
num,” and positively solves in the second.*

humani generis ipsius potentiam et imperium in rerum univer-
sitatem instaurare et amplificare conetur, ea proculdubio ambitio
(si modo ita vocanda sit) reliquis et sanior est et augustior.
Hominis autem imperium in res, in solis artibus et scientiis
ponitur. Nature enim non imperatur, nisi parendo.”— Nov,
Urq. I, 329.

* Bacon himself calls the first part of his “ Novum Organum”

THE “IDOLS.” 67

I. Tue Ipots.

Nature is to be interpreted like a book. The
best interpretation is that which explains an
author out of himself, and imputes to him no
other sense than his own. The reader should
not force his own sense upon the author, as he
will thus render a correct understanding im-
possible, and arrive at an imaginary interpretation,
which, in truth, is none at all. As the reader
who makes his comments is to the book, so should
human experience be with regard to nature. Ac-
‘cording to Bacon, science is the edifice of the
world in the human mind ; hence he calls it a
temple after the example of the world. The
understanding should copy nature, and nothing
but nature, without idealising her, without
abridging her; it should add nothing of itself,
neither take away nor overlook anything belong-
ing to the object, under the misleading influence
of a childish and effeminate disgust at that which
is foolishly termed mean or filthy." It should
copy nature by imitating her details, and not from

“ Pars destruens.” It is intended to refute adverse views, and to
cleanse the human mind, like a threshing-floor, that this may be
rendered capable and susceptible of a new kind of knowledge.
Compare “ Noy, Org.” I. 115.—Author’s note.
* Compare “ Noy. Org.” I. 120.
F 2

CR.

68 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

pelio its own authority sketch a picture without caring
for the original. Such a self-created picture is

ms Fs Ky

ted OS

> not taken from the nature of things, but is antic?-

pated by the human understanding. Considered
in relation to the understanding, it is an antictpatio
mentis; considered in relation to nature, it is an
anticipatio nature ; compared with the original
external to ourselves, it 1s no true copy, but a
mere empty unreal image, that has no existence
save in our own fancy ;—a creation of the brain
(Hirngespinnst) or “ Idol.” Hence the first
negative condition, without which a knowledge
of nature is altogether impossible, is that idols
may not be set in the place of real things — that
in no case may there be an anticipatio mentis.
Nothing should be anticipated, but all should
be experienced, that is, derived from the things
themselves. There should be no general con-
ceptions (Begriffe) that are not preceded by
actual observations; no judgments that are not
preceded by actual experience; no anticipatio
mentis, but only an interpretatio nature.* “ For
the sake of distinction,” says Bacon, “we are
wont to call human reasoning, as applied to
nature, the anticipation of nature, because it is
rash and premature; but that which is properly

* Compare “ Nov. Org.,” pref. (towards the end).

THE “IDOLS.” 69

deduced from things, the interpretation of nature.” *
Here Bacon discovers the fundamental defect of
all the science that has preceded him. Nature,
instead of being interpreted, has been anticipated,
inasmuch as explanations have been based either
upon preconceived notions, or upon too scanty
experience. Either the experience was made
under the influence of an anticipatio mentis, or is
interrupted by such an anticipation; in both
cases something is assumed which has been in-
sufficiently proved or not proved at all by
experience. Thus there has been no correct
and penetrating knowledge of nature, and thus
orderly and deliberate invention has been im-
possible. Invention has been left to chance ; —
hence its excessive rarity; and science has re-
mained occupied with idle speculations ; — hence
its sterility. A want of experience, or a too
credulous experience, lies at the foundation of all
these deficiencies.

The human understanding must henceforward
become the perfectly pure and willing organ of
experience. It must first get rid of all those
notions, which it has deduced from its own

* “Rationem humanam qua utimur ad naturam, Anticipa-
tiones Nature (quia res temeraria est et prematura), at illam
rationem que debitis modis elicitur a rebus, Interpretationem
Nature, docendi gratia vocare consuevimus.”—Nov. Org. I. 26.

Compare also to 33, inclusive. a
F3

pn Prhne ,

“

70 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

‘p~*mature, not from that of things. These notions

Aagpt are not found, but anticipated. Such “ Idols”

belong to human nature, either as a natural or an

historical inheritance. The natural idols are

the peculiarities of the human species or of par-
ticular individuals; and thus comprise errors
common to the whole race (¢dola tribus), and
accidental individual errors (idola specus). The
historical idols depend upon manners, usages,

and customs, such as arise from -the inter-

course between man and man (7dola fori), or
upon general traditions which on the great the-
atre of humanity are handed down from gene-
ration to generation (idola theatri). These idols
obscure the human understanding, and hide from
it the face of nature; they must be discarded for
ever on the very threshold of science. “ The
idols and false notions which have hitherto oc-
cupied the human understanding and are deeply
rooted in it, not only so beset the minds of men
that the access of truth is rendered difficult, but
even when access is given they will again meet
and trouble us in the very restoration of the
sciences; unless men, being forewarned, guard

themselves as much as possible against them.” *

* “ Tdola et notiones falsee quee intellectum humanum jam oc-
cuparunt atque in eo alte herent, non solum mentes hominum ita
obsident ut veritati aditus difficilis pateat ; sed etiam dato et

ENUMERATION OF IDOLS. 71

The “idols,” according to Bacon, are the “ duties
of omission” * in the world of science. They re-
semble ignes futui, which the traveller ought to
know in order to avoid them. Bacon would
make us acquainted with these ignes fatui of
science, that direct us from the true path of

we f

experience; therefore he treats first of the de-

lusions, then of the method of knowledge.
Whoever seeks real copies of things must beware
of false semblances, just as the logical thinker
must be on his guard against sophisms. ‘ The
doctrine of “Idols,” says Bacon, “bears to the
interpretation of nature a relation similar to that

which the doctrine of sophisms bears to ordinary

dialectic.” ¢

Il. Tue Bacontan Scepticism.
BACON AND DESCARTES,

To oppose idols and prejudices, whencesoever
they may come, science begins with doubt —with

concesso aditu, illa rursus in ipsa instauratione scientiarum
occurrent et molesta erunt, nisi homines premoniti adversus ea
se quantum fieri potest muniant.”—NVov. Org. I. 38. For the
doctrine of “Idols,” compare the following Aphorisms to 68.
inclusive.

* “ Unterlassungspflichten.”

t “Doetrina enim de Idolis similiter se habet ad Interpreta-
tionem Nature, sicut doctrina de Sophisticis Elenchis ad Dia-
lecticam yulgerem.”—WNov. Org. I. 40.

Fr4

oly. av &

72 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

-_

is “utter uncertainty. Doubt is the starting-point,
i m e

not the goal of science; the goal is certain and
well-grounded knowledge. Science, according to
Bacon, should begin with “ Acatalepsia,” to ter-
minate in “ Kueatalepsia.” The Baconian doubt
seeks to shake not the foundations, but only | the
false foundations of science, that a firm edifice
after the pattern of the world may be raised in
the human mind. Bacon agrees with the sceptics
in his starting-point, not in his result. The
views of those who adhered to Acatalepsia and

our own method agree, to some extent, at the

commencement; but in the end they differ im-
mensely, and are completely opposed to each other.
For the sceptics roundly assert that nothing can
be known at all; we, that only a small part of
nature can be known by the method now in
use. They proceed next to destroy the au-
thority of the senses and the understanding,
for which we, on the contrary, invent and sup-
99 &

ply assistance. And in the same spirit Bacon
declares, towards the end of the first book of

* «Ratio eorum qui acatalepsiam tenuerunt, et via nostra, |
initiis suis quodammodo consentiunt ; exitu immensum disjun-
guntur et opponuntur. Illi enim nihil sciri posse simpliciter
asserunt ; nos non multum sciri posse in natura, ea que nunc
in usu est via: verum illi exinde authoritatem sensus et intel-
lectus destruunt ; nos auxilia iisdem excogitamus et submini-
stramus.”—Nov. Org. I. 37. With respect to Bacon’s rela-
tion to the Ancient Sceptics, compare the “ Scala Intellectus,”

ACATALEPSIA AND EUCATALEPSIA, 73

the “ Noyum Organum:” “We do not con-
template and propose Acatalepsia, but Euca-
talepsia; for we do not derogate from, but assist
the senses; and we do not despise, but direct the
understanding. And it is better to know what
is necessary, and at the same time to think that
we do not know it thoroughly, than to think that
we know thoroughly, and at the same time to
know nothing of that which is required.” *

Hence we may compare the Baconian doubt
with the Cartesian; for these two, by effecting
the revival of philosophy, divide the epoch of
that revival between them. Both of them have
the same origin and the same tendency, both
have the same goal before them, and are actuated
by the same internal conviction, that all the
knowledge hitherto acquired is but uncertain,
and that a new kind of knowledge is required.
The cause of science must once more be under-
taken from its very commencement; the work of
the understanding must be performed anew. Thus
alike think Bacon and Descartes. Therefore, by
means of doubt, they withhold their assent from

* “Nos vero non Acatalepsiam, sed Eucatalepsiam meditamur
et proponimus; sensui enim non derogamus, sed ministramus ;
et intellectum non contemnimus, sed regimus, Atque melius
est scire quantum Opus sit et tamen nos non penitus scire pu-
tare, quam penitus scire nos putare, et tamen nil eorum aac
opus est scire.” — Nov. Org. I. 126.

.) 74 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
uw VeNocartig

oa the knowledge that has hitherto been deemed
Pa
th lath

owt Cf. : a :
vitllet jthe reformatory kind; it is a purification of the

unquestionable, in order to obtain a clear field
© for their labour of renovation. Their doubt is of

_ (> understanding, with a view to a perfect renewal
ytodhevcof science. But now, what is to be effected by
= “\ the understanding thus purified, and therefore, in
““<'“ the first instance, vacant? Here the two re-
formers of science part from each other in the
opposite directions that are followed by after
ages; here, from a common stock, spring the
two trunks of modern philosophy. Descartes
says, the pure understanding must be left wholly
to itself, that from itself alone it may derive all
its judgments. Bacon on the other hand de-
clares, in the very preface to the “ Novum Or-
ganum:” “ The only remaining hope and salva-
tion is to begin over again the whole work of the
mind, so that from the very first the mind may
not be trusted to itself, but continually directed.”*
The common root of modern philosophy is the
doubt which is alike Baconian and Cartesian.
: From this doubt springs the pure intellect, which
| is left to itself by Descartes; while, on the other
hand, it is fastened by Bacon to the leading-
strings of nature. From these different, and, we

* « Restat unica salus ac sanitas, ut opus universum mentis de
integro resumatur ; ac mens, jam ab ipso principio, nullo modo
sibi permittatur, sed perpetuo regatur.”—Vov. Org., pref.

BACON AND DESCARTES. 75

may say, opposite dispositions of the philosophical
understanding, arise the different directions taken
by modern philosophy in the progress of its de-
velopment. One series follows the self-sufficient _
intellect of Descartes, the other the intellect in
the leading-strings of nature, to which it has been
attached by Bacon. The representatives of the |
former tendency are necessarily metaphysicians
and idealists; those of the latter (necessarily —
likewise) are empiricists and sensualists. The |
Cartesian soil could not do otherwise than bring |
forth a Spinoza and a Leibnitz; the Baconian
naturally produced a Hobbes and a Locke,
Leibnitz originates the German, Locke the An-
glo-Gallic enlightenment (Aufkidrung), both of
which lead to a new epoch in philosophy, in
which they are merged at last. However, we
need not here follow this yet distant prospect.
We return to that doubt by means of which
Bacon and Descartes purify the understanding
from all prejudices. The understanding so puri-
fied is directed by Descartes to itself, by Bacon
to nature; the former makes it at once self-
dependent, the latter makes it completely de-
pendent on nature; or, to express ourselves
figuratively, the pure understanding, just newly
born, is at once matured to manhood with Des-
cartes ; while with Bacon it is first in a state of
childhood, and is treated asa child. This treat-

76 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

ment is less bold, but more judicious, because
more conformable to nature. Bacon treats the
understanding like a trainer; the child ought to
grow and develop itself gradually. In a child-.
like mind, which stands open, without reserve or
prejudice, to the impressions of the world, must
science be renewed, for thus it literally becomes _
once more young. According to the Baconian
philosophy, the human understanding has a_
Natural History; while, according to the Car- .
tesian, it is alike devoid of history and nature.*_
Bacon bids science meet the “Idols” with
annihilating doubt, but nature with pure sus-
ceptibility | (Empfanglichkeit). The human un-
derstanding must resign itself wholly to nature
with child-like confidence, that it may really feel
domesticated with nature. Bacon loves to com-
pare the dominion of man, which consists in
knowledge, with the kingdom of Heaven, of
which the Bible says: — ‘‘ Except ye become as
little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom
of Heaven.” “ The idols of every kind,” says
Bacon, “ must be abjured and renounced with a
firm and solemn resolution, and the understanding
must be wholly freed and cleared from them, that
the access to the kingdom of man, which is

* “ Natur- und Geschichtslos.” t Or “receptivity."—J. O.

BACON AND DESCARTES. 77

founded in science, may be same as that to the
kingdom of Heaven, where no entrance is possible,
save by assuming the character of children.” *

II. Tae Exrermentarisina Perception.

In the spirit of Bacon, we may designate that
view of things as alone correct which remains
to us after the removal of all idols. These,
Idols are the peculiarities of human nature and
of individuals, the conventionalities of social
intercourse, and the authorities confirmed by
history. All these varieties may incontestibly
have their value in their proper place, but they
have nothing in common with the nature and
quality of things, and therefore our observation
of things ought not to be influenced by them. It
is only with respect to science, which they should
not affect, that they are idols. Of the classes
above enumerated we omit that of individual
peculiarity, as leading too much into the obscure
and indefinite. The others are more manifestly

* “Que omnia (idola) constanti et solenni decreto sunt ab-
neganda et renuncianda, et intellectus ab iis omnino liberandus
est et expurgandus; ut non alius fere sit aditus ad regnum

hominis, quod fundatur in scientiis, quam ad regnum ccelorum, »

in quod, nisi sub persona infantis, intrare non datur.?— Nov,
Org. I. 68. -

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78 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

and generally important; they are, therefore,
worthy of a clear and accurate description.*

1, CONVICTION OPPOSED TO AUTHORITY.

What results from our contemplation of things
after the removal of all the systems and traditions
supported by historical authority (édola theatri)?
On authority, things are considered not as they
appear to ourselves, but as they appear to public
opinion, which clothes itself with the dignity of a
traditional religion or philosophy. Thus they
are contemplated without any judgment or ex-
perience of our own. On the other hand, our
contemplation, when it becomes independent, is
converted into autopsy, into observation actually
made by ourselves, so that we no longer take
upon trust and repeat that which is said or
reputed true by others, but only adhere, by virtue
of our own convictions, to that which we have
ourselves perceived and experienced. Thus, in
astronomy, for example, the Ptolemzan system,

* In the omission of the “Idola specus,” and in the order in
which we have ranged the three other Idols, we have followed not
our own choice, but the Baconian prescription, Bacon him-
self calls the negative part of his logic (that is to say, the refu-
tation of the Idols) “triplex,” and designates the three parts :
« redargutio philosophiarum ” (idola theatri), “red. demonstra-
tionum ” (id. fori), and “red. rationis humane nature (id. tri-
bus).—Vide the tract “Partis instaurationis secunda delineatio.”

IDOLS OF THE THEATRE. 79

supported by a certain interpretation of Scripture,
was an “ Idolum theatri,” which science, in the
person of Copernicus, solemnly and for ever aban-
doned. Here for the first time she has used her
own faculties in observing, with perfect indepen-
dence, whether the sun really moves and the earth
really stands still, and arrives at a result opposed
to the belief entertained by public opinion. The
exclusion from science of the “ Idola theatri,” as
decisive grounds, amounts to a declaration that
science is independent of all belief based on
authority, and that man is to be referred to his
own convictions alone.

2. REAL OPPOSED TO VERBAL KNOWLEDGE,

After the remoyal of the first class of idols,
nothing remains but a personal acquaintance with
the things themselves. But now in most cases
we fancy that we know things, without having
seriously learned to know them. We think we
are certain as to their value, because we possess
the symbols of it, and circulate them with facility,
These symbols are names or words, which we BAR.
sooner than the nature of the things themselves,
and with the assistance of which men communicate
their notions to each other. Accustomed from
childhood to put words in the place of things,

ey

80 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

and with these words to be perfectly intelligible
to everybody, we involuntarily take them, mere
signs as they are, for the things signified,—the
nominal for the real value. Words are, as it
were, the current coin, by means of which we
put forth and take in our notions of things; they
constitute, like money in trade, not the real and
natural, but the conventional value of things, as
‘settled by the relations of human intercourse.
We must not take this market-price for the thing
itself, with respect to which it is completely
extrinsic and indifferent. So little are words
guided by the nature of things, that (for instance),
in common parlance*, the sun still moves round
the earth, though in truth this never was the
case, and though we have long been convinced of.
the contrary. Words do not say what things are,
but what they denote to us; they represent our
own notions, and generally are as uncertain as_
our notions are obscure. Because words and the.
usages of language designate things not as they
are in their own nature, but as they are considered
in the intercourse between man and man, Bacon
reckons the delusion, through which we cling
to words, and fancy we grasp the things them-

* As in expressions that refer to the rising or setting of the
sun.—J. O.

IDOLS OF THE TRIBE. 81

selves, among the Idola Fori.* Hence Bacon

—

* faata
ve beh

loves so much to oppose the wisdom of words to “Pp

the knowledge of things; an opposition that fur~ a

nished a watchword to hissuccessors. His remarks
on the subject of words, while treating of the Idola
Fori, contain a brief programme of all the inquiries
about language that have been made in accordance
with his views. In these investigations both the
** Forum ” itself and the “ Idols” play their part:
the Forum, because language appears as~a result
of human invention, that is to say, a mere arbi-
trary piece of bungling workmanship; the Idols,
because words represent general conceptions,-and .
therefore unreal notions.

3. NATURAL ANALOGY OPPOSED TO HUMAN ANALOGY.

The Idola Theatri consist in this: that we
take things not as they appear to ourselves, but
as they are declared to be on the authority of
another; that we see them with the eyes of others
instead of our own. The Idola Fori consist in
this: that we take things not as they are, but as
they appear to us through the medium of human
intercourse. What view of things is left after the
removal of the Idola Fori? Our own knowledge
is directed from the signs to the things signified,

* Compare Noy. Org. 59, 60.
G

+t

82 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

and these can only be learned by our own per-
ception and investigation.

But then, is even our own perception correct ?
Are things really what we take them to be,—as
they are reflected in our senses? Are the sen-
sible impressions true copies of things themselves
—an expression corresponding to their nature,
and not rather an expression corresponding to our
own? Our own perception and conception of
things is, as it were, a translation of them from
physical into human nature, from the universe
into our own individuality; a translation in which
the original loses its own peculiarity, and arbi-
trarily assumes an human peculiarity in its stead.
Thus, even in our own immediate perception of
things,—apart from the doctrines enforced by
authority and the notions current in social inter-
course —there is something foreign to the things
themselves ; something superadded by us; some-
thing that lies in the conditions of our nature, so
that we fail to make true copies of things, and
produce distorted images instead. Our own notion
of nature presents delusive phantoms to. our_gaze,
deceives us with false representations. These
are, to use Bacon’s words, the Jdola Tribus, which
are the most potent of all, for they govern the
entire human race; and their government is the
hardest to overthrow, inasmuch as they have been

IDOLS OF THE TRIBE. a nist
founded not by historical authority in the course ff. |
of time, but by nature itself. The human soul
is, indeed, a mirror of things, but this mirror is so
cut by nature that, while it reflects things, it at+ as Rs
the same time alters them, and does not exhibit [Give
one without blending with it an human element, aes a
—without, by a certain magic, transferring it we
into something human. What is there in common

between things themselves and human forms ?

What has the sun to do with the fact that to the

eyes of an inhabitant of the earth he appears to

move? This is an illusion, the cause of which

lies not in the motion of the sun, but in our own

eyes, to which our own planet is the point of

view. If I assert that the sun moves, because we }

are taught so by Ptolemy, I judge by an Jdolum

Theatri. If I make the same assertion, on the

ground that everybody says so likewise, I judge

by an Idolum Fori. If I say: “ The sun moves,

because I see it move with my own eyes,” I.

judge by an Idolum Tribus. I feel, for instance,’

the warmth of the water, and determine the

degree of warmth by my. sensations. But the

same water appears first cold and a few mo-

ments afterwards warm, without any change

having taken place in the degree of its warmth.

The warmth of my body has changed, and this

body when heated feels the water cold, when
G2

84. FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

cooled feels the water warm. Thus is it with
all our perceptions,—with our entire contem-
plation of things. We measure and judge them
by our own standard, we view them from a
point that lies in our own nature, which is indeed
the nearest and most natural as far as we are
concerned, but with respect to the things is per-
fectly foreign and indifferent. We apprehend
\them not as they are in themselves, but as they
stand in relation to us; not according to their

f , i °
vprees own analogy, but according to ours; or to use the

Tie V

»- Baconian language, we consider things ex analogia

2OV “4 hominis, not ex analogia univers. Under this

m5 8

formula the Idola Tribus may best be noted.
“‘ These Idols,” says Bacon, “are founded in
human nature itself,—in the very tribe or race
of men. It is falsely asserted that human sense
is the standard of things, since, on the contrary,
all the perceptions both of the senses and of the
mind are according to the analogy of man, not
that of the universe, and the human intellect
is like an uneven mirror to the rays of things, —
blending its own nature with the nature of the
object, so as to distort and disfigure the latter.”*

* “Tdola Tribus sunt fandata in ipsa natura humana, atque in
ipsa tribu seu gente hominum. Falso enim asseritur, sensum
humanum esse mensuram rerum; quin contra, omnes percep-
tiones tam sensus quam mentis sunt ex analogia hominis, non

SPINOZA AND BACON. 85

This passage is mentioned in very contemptuous
terms by Spinoza in his letter to Oldenburg. He
treats Bacon as a confused babbler, who talks at
random about the cause of error and the nature
of the mind. But, far from refuting Bacon, he
does not clearly show the point that constitutes
the utter difference between Bacon and himself,
It is worth while to give prominence to this point,
for there is manifestly a great deal in the passage
above cited that Spinoza himself might have said.
In the first place, Man is not the measure (or
standard) of things: this proposition is in the
very spirit of Spinoza. In the second place, all
those notions are false that are formed according
to the analogy of man, and not according to that
of nature, and herein lies the ground of error, —
Error consists in the inadequate representation of
things: this sentence is no less Spinozistic. In
the third place, all our representations, both sen-
suous and logical, are according to human analogy,
and therefore inadequate; the human understanding
is by nature an inadequate mirror of things. In this
third proposition alone lies that difference between
the two that Spinoza should have shown more
clearly. For, according to him, truth is naturally

ex analogia universi, Estque intellectus humanus instar speculi
inequalis ad radios rerum, qui suam naturam nature rerum
immiscet, eamque distorquet et inficit.”—Vov, Org. I. 41.

@ 3

86 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

immanent in the human mind, only it is, at first,
veiled and obscured by inadequate (sensuous)
ideas. Hence, with Spinoza, true knowledge
solely consists in the clearing up of obscure ideas,
in the emendation of the understanding. With
him the understanding is corrected from its own
resources; while, on the other hand, with Bacon
it is brought to right knowledge by the leading-
strings of nature through continued experience.
This contrast between Spinoza and Bacon is the
same that is to be found between Bacon and
Descartes; between Locke and Leibnitz; between
empiricism and idealism generally. That Spinoza
will make no concession to his adversary, lies in
the character of his point of view. Perhaps it
was displeasing to him to find, from an opposite
point of view, so much that was kmdred to his
own thoughts ; perhaps this very affinity in Bacon
especially revolted him. With him the will was
a consequence of knowledge, and could never,
therefore, be a ground of error. Now of Bacon
he says: “ Whatever further causes he may as-
sign to error are easily reducible to the one cause
of Descartes, namely, that the human will is free
and more comprehensive than the understanding ;
or as Bacon himself (Aph. 49.) more confusedly
expresses himself, because the understanding has
not the quality of a dry light, but receives an

CORRECTIONS FOR THE MIND. 87

infusion from the will.” This passage is not

accurately quoted.* It stands thus: “The human

understanding has not the quality of a dry light,

but receives an infusion from the will and the

passions, whence science is generated in accord-

ance with the wish; for that which man desires

should be true he the more readily believes.”

Now what does Bacon say? That desire perplexes
the understanding. And what says Spinoza? That

desire is a perplexed understanding. In point of
fact, the two propositions declare the same thing,

namely, the perplexity of desire.

4, EXPERIMENT OPPOSED TO THE DELUSION OF THE SENSES,

Sense and Instrument.

What then remains for us, when the under-
standing and the senses deceive us, and the
human mind is by nature a deceptive mirror
of things? The understanding and the senses
must not be left as they are; they must be
cultivated, corrected, assisted, that they may
correspond to things; the magic mirror of the

* More properly, the quotation is too abruptly terminated,

t Vide Appendix A.
G4

88 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

mind must be made smooth, and polished bright,
that the speculum inequale may become a specu-
lum equale. And how can this be effected ?—
not by nature, but only by art. What is im-
possible for the mere senses and the unassisted
understanding, — namely, a correct perception
of things, —is attainable both by senses and
understanding with the aid of an instrument.
Equipped with a fitting instrument, human
perception becomes correct; without one it 1s
fallacious. What is invisible or obscure to the
naked eye, becomes visible and clear to the eye
armed with a microscope or telescope. The
human hand ean, indeed, feel the warmth of the
water, but cannot arrive at a right judgment
respecting it; for it feels its own warmth at the
same time, and accordingly as this is greater or
less than_ the warmth of the water, the latter
appears cooler or warmer. The actual warmth
of the water is only ascertained by the thermo-
meter, which reveals to the eye what the hand is
unable to perceive. We will call perception
(Wahrnehmung), when aided by an instrument,
“ observation” (Beobachtung); and the process
by which we exhibit a natural phenomenon in its
purity, without any heterogeneous element, an
experiment. In this spirit, Bacon himself declares :
‘Neither the bare hand nor the understanding,

ANTHROPOMORPHIC VIEW OF NATURE. 89

left to itself, can effect much; effects are produced
by means of instruments and helps.”* And in
another place: All true interpretation of nature
consists in accurate experiments, whereby the
senses pronounce judgment only upon the ex-
periment, but the experiment upon the object
itself,

5. EFFICIENT OPPOSED TO FINAL CAUSES. f

However, not only in the nature of the senses,
but also in that of the human understanding, are
iliusive phantoms that destroy the true know-
ledge of things. And there is one notion, espe-
cially, that most easily and mischievously misleads.
the human understanding, most effectually falsifies
the interpretation of nature, and is the chief cause
of the ignorance and sterility that has hitherto
prevailed in science. We have a propensity to
transfer to things our own nature and its attri-
butes, thus accommodating things to ourselves,
and not ourselves to things, and apprehending the
phenomena of nature according to human analogy..
Thus we interpret nature falsely ; endowing her
with human attributes, and conceiving her not

* “Nec manus nuda nec intellectus sibi permissus multum
valet ; instrumentis et auxiliis res perficitur.”—Nov. Org. I, 2.
t “ Causalitat gegen Teleologie.”

g Cans te’

ie a/

“a 7) gle

90 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

something physical, but something anthropo-
morphic. It belongs to the very constitution

«+g, Of our understanding to form generic ideas; and
RAG ' “Ag

; 2'
AH, f t

rans 3.
bikean 06

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pwbag .

to that of our will to act with certain ends in
view. ‘These generic ideas and ends (or goals)
are forms that belong essentially to man, but
explain nothing in the nature of things. Never-
theless, these very ideas that explain nothing
have hitherto constituted the principles of what
is called Natural Philosophy. Bacon reckons
Final Causes among the Jdola Tribus, and in the
region of physics finds them not only useless, but
injurious. He deduces them in the following
manner from the propensity of the human under-
standing: “The human understanding, being
restless and unable to halt or rest, ever presses
forward, but in vain. ‘Thus it appears incon-
ceivable that there is any final boundary to the
world, but it always seems necessarily to occur
to us that there must be something beyond.
Nor, indeed, can we imagine how eternity has
flowed down to the present day ; for the ordinary
distinction of an infinity, a parte ante and a parte
post, cannot hold good, inasmuch as it would
necessarily follow that one infinity is greater
than another, and also that infinity is wasting.
away and verging toanend. There is a similar
subtilty with regard to the infinite divisibility of

TENDENCY TO SEEK FINAL CAUSES. 91

lines arising from the weakness of our own faculty
of thought. But still greater mischief arises from
this mental impotency in the discovery of causes.
For though the greatest generalities in nature
should be positive just as they are found, and in
point of fact are not causable; nevertheless the
¥ human understanding, incapable of rest, seeks for
¥ something better known. Thus, however, whilst
aiming at what is more remote, it falls back to
| what is nearer, namely, to final causes, which
clearly belong more to the nature of man than to
that of the universe; and from this souxee philo-
sophy has been marvellously corrupted. Indeed,
it is the part of an inexperienced and shallow
| philosopher to seek for causes in the greatest
,, generalities, and not to require a cause for sub-

‘ ordinate objects.” *

* “Gliscit intellectus humanus, neque consistere aut acquiescere
potis est, sed ulterius petit ; at frustra. Itaque incogitabile est
ut sit aliquid extremum aut extimum mundi, sed semper quasi
necessario occurrit ut sit aliquid ulterius : neque rursus cogitari
potest quomodo externitas defluxerit ad hunc diem; cum dis-
tinctio illa que recipi consuevit, quod sit infinitum a parte ante
et a parte post, nullo modo constare possit ; quia inde sequeretur
quod sit unum infinitum aiio infinito majus, atque ut con-
sumatur infinitum, et vergat ad finitum. Similis est subtilitas de
lineis semper divisibilibus, ex impotentia cogitationis. At majore
cum pernicie intervenit hec impotentia mentis in inventione
causarum ; nam cum maxime universalia in natura positiva esse
debeant, quaemadmodum inveniuntur, neque sunt revera causa-
bilia ; tamen intellectus humanus, nescius acquiescere, adhuc

* 92 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
th PRM KH | |

bly Bete By the idea of a final cause, metaphysics are
a pdeyns distinguished from physics. An interpretation of
hat A ~yature by final causes is a mixture of metaphysics
with physics, which renders the latter confused
and sterile. Sterility in a science is, to Bacon’s
mind, something deplorable; and as he has
proposed to free science from its wretched con-
dition, he is bent upon clearing up perplexities,
separating what has wrongly mixed, parting the
heterogeneous. He would exhibit physics in all
their purity, and therefore he assigns to meta-
physics the forms and final causes that are of no
service to physics. Physics are occupied not
with the forms, but with the matter of things;
they explain individual phenomena, are satisfied
with secondary causes, with which they inter-
pret everything in nature, and interpreting no-
thing by final causes, leave the primary origin of
| things to metaphysics. The efficient are, in fact,
the physical causes. Thus, in his work “ De
Augmentis Scientiarum,” Bacon designates the
theory of final causes as a portion of meta-

appetit notiora. Tum vero ad ulteriora tendens ad proximiora
recidit, videlicet ad causas finales, que sunt plane ex natura
hominis potius quam universi ; atque ex hoc fonte philosophiam
miris modis corruperunt. Est autem esque imperiti et leviter
philosophantis, in maxime universalibus causam requirere, ac in
subordinatis et subalternis causa non desiderare.”—Vov. Org.
I. 48.

EVIL OF FINAL CAUSES. 93

physics that has hitherto not been overlooked,
but assigned to a wrong department. “The >
inquiry of final causes,” he says, “I am moved
to report not as omitted, but as misplaced; and
yet if it were but a fault in order, I could not
speak of it, for order is matter of illustration, but
pertaineth not to the substance of sciences. But
this misplacing hath caused a deficience, or at
least a great improficience in the sciences them-
selves. For the handling of final causes, mixed
with the rest in physical inquiries, hath inter-
cepted the severe and diligent inquiry of all real
and physical causes. . . . And therefore the
natural philosophy of Democritus and some others _
(who did not suppose a mind or reason in_the
power of things, but attributed the form thereof,
able to maintain itself, to infinite essays or proofs
of nature, which they term fortune,) seemeth to
me, as far as I can judge by the recital and frag-
ments which remain unto us, in particularities of
physical causes, more real and better inquired
than that of Aristotle or Plato.” *

Thus, the position of Bacon among philoso-
phical minds is determined. He would establish
the dominion of man over nature, by means of

* “ Advancement of Learning.” The parallel passage in

“De Aug. Scient.” to which Dr, Fischer refers, will be found in
lib. iii. cap. iy.

94 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

invention; he would arrive at invention by the
interpretation of nature, without idols. Do not,
in your view of things, allow yourself to be
swayed by any authority or doctrine whatever,
but observe for yourself. Learn to know things
themselves; not through the medium of words,
but as they are in reality, — not according to
current notions, but as they are in nature. Make
experiments and observations for yourself; but
do not let your observations be affected by ana-
logies drawn from the nature of man (analogia |
hominis); do not be misled by the senses, which
present you with illusions, nor by the hasty
understanding that rapidly flies over details and
involuntarily substitutes itself for the physical
forces; that is to say, rest your observations upon
experiment, set out with the exclusion of final
causes from your interpretation of nature, nowhere
seek for anything beyond the efficient causes of
natural phenomena.

Thus that which remains after the removal of
all the idols, is experimentalising perception
from the point of view taken by mechanical or
physical causality. By this course alone can
the human mind attain a real copy of nature,
which according to Bacon is the true object.
of science. ‘The world is not to be confined

EXPERIMENT THE ONLY ROAD TO SCIENCE, 95

(as hitherto) within the straits of the intellect,

but the intellect is to be enlarged to receive the

image of the world, such as it is.” *

* «“Neque enim arctandus est mundus ad angustias intellectus
(quod adhuc factum est), sed expandendus intellectus et lax-
andus ad mundi imaginem recipiendam, qualis invenitur.”—-
Parasceve, IV.

96 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

CHAP. IV.

TRUE INDUCTION AS THE METHOD OF EXPERIENCE.

Tue only true and fruitful mode of contem-
plating nature is experimentalising perception,
directed solely to the efficient causes of things.
The perception thus attained, after the removal of
all Idols, —this perfectly objective view of things
we will, with Bacon, call “pure experience ”
(mera experientia). The end of experience is
obvious enough ;—it proceeds from the facts of
nature, and directs itself to their causes. A way,
therefore, is to be found that will lead from one
point to another,—not by a mere happy chance,
but of necessity, —and this way is the method of
experience. The first task it proposes is to ascer-
tain facts, that is, to establish what really hap-
pens, with the circumstances of the event, and
thus to collect materials, which will form the
elementary substance —as it were, the capital of
science. Let us suppose this task — this guestio
facti—performed to the greatest possible perfec-
tion, and we have a series of cases, a collection
of facts, which when they are once establishéd

COMPARISON OF INSTANCES. 97

can at first merely be enumerated. Thus, the
performance of the first task consists in the
; simple enumeration (enumeratio simplex) of per-
ceived facts, which, properly arranged, consti-
tute the description of nature or “ Natural
History.” Now how from such a description do

we get ascience of nature? How from this expe-

rience do we obtain knowledge; or, what is the
same thing, how do we ascend from the experienc.
of facts to the experience of causes? There is no

(zeal knowledge before the experience of causes,

-w¥
e.

r,as Bacon says: “To know truly is to know

from causes.”* How then am I to learn the

causes, the effective conditions, on which the

phenomenon in question is to be found?

I. Tue CoMPARISON OF SEVERAL INSTANCES.

Every natural phenomenon is presented to me |

under certain conditions. ‘The point therefore

is, among the various data to ascertain those that |
are absolutely necessary and essential to the phe- _

nomenon in question ; so that it would not be
possible without them, ‘‘ How shall I find the
essential conditions ?”—that is the question, and
| the answer is: ‘‘ By setting aside whatever is
Sacestiet or contingent.” The residue of the

* “Recte ponitur ; vere scire esse per causas scire.”— lov.
Org. Lib. IL. Aph. 2.
H

98 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

data, after this operation, will manifestly consist

of those that are essential and true. As the

necessary conditions in all instances consist of

the data that are left after this deduction, Bacon
\ terms these the “true difference” (differentia
vera); which he further designates as the fountain
of things, operative nature, the form of a given
phenomenon.* As the true contemplation of
things is the perception of them by man after the
removal of all idols, the true conditions of a pheno-
menon are those that remain after the deduction
of contingencies. Now arises the question: “ How
shall I know what is contingent?” The dis-
covery of contingencies, and the separation of
them from the other data, is the real purpose and.
aim of the Baconian experience. If this problem
is solved, we have arrived at the discernment of
the essential conditions of a phenomenon, conse-
quently at the knowledge of the natural law
itself, or the interpretatio nature.

There is only one way of obtaining the solution,
viz., the comparison of a number of similar
instances. This comparison must be of a two-
fold kind. In the first place we should compare
several instances in which the same phenomenon

* “Date autem nature Formam, sive differentiam veram, sive
naturam naturantem, sive fontem emanationis invenire, opus et
intentio est Humane Scientiz.”—Vov. Org. I. 1.

SEPARATION OF CONTINGENCIES, 99

(heat, for instance) occurs under various condi-
tions, then with these instargpes we should com-
pare others, where, under similar conditions, the
same phenomenon does noé occur. The former
instances, which Bacon calls “ positive” (instan-
tie positive sive convenientes) are similar with
respect to the phenomenon under consideration ;
the latter, which he calls “negative” (enstantie
negative vel contradictive) are similar with
respect to the conditions. What is required,
therefore, is a comparison of the positive instances
with each other, and also with the negative.
Thus if, for instance, heat is the phenomenon
under consideration, the sun that gives warmth
is a positive instance; while, on the other hand,
the moon and stars that give no warmth are
negative. From the comparison of these it is
clear that a celestial luminary is by no means an
essential condition of light.* Those conditions
alone are necessary that are connected with the
phenomenon in every instance ; those that are not
are merely contingent. There is heat connected
with phenomena of light, but there is also heat
without light, and light without heat ; hence light
is not an essential factor of heat.t

* Or rather, light is not a necessary consequence of a celes-
tial luminary.—J. O.
Tt Compare Nov. Org. II. 11—20.
H 2

190 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
hadi on

mali Thus, by accurate and frequent comparison,
: on 9 fave non-essential conditions are detected, and by their
ato as, exclusion (reectio) the essential conditions are
- wi : attained. Thus experience proceeds from fact to
a fact till it arrives at a law—from the singular to

high oe :
the universal. It confirms fact by experiment;

m=
discovers, by a fitting comparison of facts, the

universal law, principle, or axiom by which the
‘operation of nature is guided. Thus, to speak in
'\the manner of Bacon, experience ascends from
the experiment to the axiom. This is the me-
}thod of Induction, which Bacon therefore calls
‘the true key to natural philosophy. To deduce

‘axioms from experiments, ‘‘ we must first prepare
a complete and accurate natural and experimental
history. This constitutes our foundation, for we
must not imagine or invent, but discover the
operations of nature. But natural and expe-
rimental history is so varied and diffuse in its
material that it confounds and distracts the human
understanding, unless it be fixed and exhibited in
due order. ‘Therefore tables and co-ordinations
of instances must be framed in such a manner
and order that the understanding may be able to
act upon them. Even when this is done, the
understanding, left to itself and its own operation,
is incompetent and unfit to form axioms, without
direction and support. Hence we must, in the

NEGATIVE INSTANCES. 101

third place, apply a true and legitimate Induction,
which is the very key of interpretation.”*

Il. Tue Imrvort or NEGATIVE INSTANCES.

CRITICAL EXPERIENCE.

Bacon calls his own induction “ legitimate” and
“true” to distinguish it from another that is
neither legitimate nor true, that proceeds without
rule, and arrives at false results. Experience
and induction are in themselves so far from new,
that, on the contrary, they form the daily sus-
tenance of our knowledge. Every day makes
an addition to our experience; and at last, by
summing up our daily experiences, we arrive at
a total result, which has, for us, the force of an
axiom. ‘This inference of a supposed axiom from
a fact is also of the inductive kind; and by means

* “Primo enim paranda est Historia Naturalis et Experi-
mentalis, sufficiens et bona ; quod fundamentum rei est; neque
enim fingendum aut excogitandum, sed inveniendum, quid
natura faciat aut ferat. Historia vero Naturalis et Experi-
mentalis tam varia est et sparsa, ut intellectum confundat et
disgreget, nisi sistatur et compareat ordine idoneo. Itaque
formandz sunt Tabulze et Coordinationes Instantiarum, tali
modo et instructione ut in eas agere possit intellectus. Id
quoque licet fiat, tamen intellectus sibi permissus et sponte
movens inecompetens est et inhabilis ad opificium axiomatum,
nisi regatur et muniatur. Itaque tertio, adhibenda est Induc-
tio legitima et vera, que ipsa Clavis est Interpretationis.”—
Nov. Org. II. 10,

H 3

102 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

LAA Oe

ag of this sort of induction is found that wisdom of

. ,, ordinary life of which we have an instance in the

ey * weather-wisdom” of a peasant. But just in

ania the same manner we are convinced every day

-S. uli that our experiences thus formed are insecure,—

bet ‘hat our inferences are incorrect. A new expe-

alee rience, on which we did not reckon in summing
up those preceding, shows that our rule was
false; and a single instance is sufficient to refute
the validity of a supposed law. If that which,
according to our rule, ought to occur, fails to
occur on one occasion only, this is a proof that
ithe rule was no better than an “idol.” Sucha
isingle case, in opposition toa rule, is a negative —
‘instance. And in the course of our ordinary ex-
perience we constantly meet with such negative
instances that annihilate the results based upon
our previous experience, and, on that account, re-
ceived by us with implicit faith. Rules for the
weather are constantly made ridiculous by nega-
tive instances; and ordinary experience is not,
more certain than the almanac. Experience does
not become certain till it has no more to appre-
hend from negative instances; till its results
are no longer exposed to the risk of being over-
thrown every moment by some unexpected occur-
rence; till, in a word, there are no unforeseen
cases by which it can be opposed. How is this

NEGATIVE INSTANCES. 103

security to be attained? In one way alone.
Experience must, as far as it is possible, foresee ,
every case; must guard itself betimes against the.
danger of negative instances, by taking them into
consideration ; nay, before it draws an inference
it must itself seek for the negative instances, that.
these may not afterwards rise in opposition and,
overthrow premature results. To distinguish this’
course from that of ordinary experience, Bacon
calls it “ methodical ;” to distinguish it from or-
dinary induction, he calls it “true.” An expe-
rience can only be refuted by the testimony of
opposing facts ; and if there is no fact left to bear
Witness against it, it is altogether irrefutable, —
stands perfectly firm. The only defence which
experience can provide against such a testimony
is by seeking it out, and eliminating it, before a
final decision is made. As in a lawsuit it should,
as it were, confront the positive. with the negative
instances, and after the hearing pronounce a
sentence, according to the approved maxim of
every fair judge: Audiatur et altera pars !
Negative instances render experience difficult,
and, in a sciegtific sense, legitimate. With-
out them it is easy and uncritical. Thus Bacon
assigns the highest importance to negative
instances ; they are with him the criterion of em-
pirical truth, -— its only voucher. We can vouch |
H 4

104 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

(£4
. for atruth when it cannot be contradicted ; we can

tet ®§ vouch for empirical truth when experience does not
sonal pronounceany one of its judgments, without taking
into consideration, elucidating and solving all con-
tradictory cases. This can only be effected by
means of negative instances, which compel expe-
rience to pause at every step, and provide it with
a clue by which it slowly and surely approaches
a fixed goal, instead of prematurely hurrying
towards one that is merely illusive. Thus is ex-
perience placed beyond the reach of contradiction.
«J think,” says Bacon, “that a form of in-
duction should be introduced, which from certain
instances should draw general conclusions, so
that the impossibility of finding a contrary in-
stance might be clearly proved.”* By an unre-
mitting comparison of positive with negative in-
stances, necessary conditions are separated from
contingencies. Hence Bacon calls the com-
parative understanding, the “ divine fire” by
which nature is sifted, and the laws of her pheno-
mena are brought to light. “A solution and
separation of nature must be effected, not indeed
*

* “Visum est ei talem inductionis formam introduci, que
ex aliquibus generaliter concludat ; ita ut instantiam contradic-
toriam inveniri non posse demonstretur.”—Cogitata et Visa. It
is scarcely necessary to state that throughout this treatise Bacon
speaks of himself in the third person.—J. O.

USE OF DOUBT. 105

by fire, but by the understanding, which is, as
it were, a divine fire.”* Man is only per-
mitted to proceed first by negatives, and then to
arrive at affirmatives, after every kind of ex-
clusion.” ¢

We have already seen how the Baconian science
takes its origin from doubt, which leaves it no-
thing but pure experience. It does not adhere
to doubt like the sceptics, but strives after certain
knowledge, though still taking doubt as a con-
stant guide through all its investigations, and
concluding none till this guide has been heard and
satisfied. That first doubt, which precedes all
science, makes this science purely empirical. The
second doubt, that accompanies science at every
step, renders experience critical. Without the
first, experience, even in its first origin, would be
encumbered with idols, and never attain a clear
result; without the second, it would grasp idols
instead of truths in its path, and thus become
credulous and superstitious. Against this con-
tingency it is protected by unremitting doubt, by

* “Nature facienda est prorsus solutio et separatio, non per
ignem certe, sed per mentem, tanquam ignem divinum.”—Vov.
Org. Il. 16.

¢ “(Homini) tantum conceditur, procedere primo per nega-
tivas et postremo loco desinere in affirmativas post omnimodam
exclusionem,”—Vov. Org. IL 15.

106 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

the critical understanding, that against every posi-
tive instance invokes a negative. Whence, then,
do credulity and superstition derive their origin ?
Only from the want of critical understanding, —
from the disregard of negative instances, — from
an easy and indolent contentment with a few
positive instances picked up at pleasure. If the
negative instances had obtained a fair hearing,
there would not have been so many rules about
the weather; and the many marvels that have
been ascribed to inexplicable and demoniac powers
would never have been believed. Thus, for in-
stance, we are told of somnambulists who predict / Oe
the future. The credulous understanding is
satisfied with one (perhaps doubtful) instance,
spreads it about, becomes superstitious, and
renders others superstitious likewise. The cri-
tical understanding asks, Where are the som-
nambulists who do not prophesy, or whose pre-
dictions are not fulfilled? Without doubt they
might be found if they were only sought; and
one single negative instance would be sufficient
to banish from the whole world a belief in the
infallibility of such prophecies,—to convince the
whole world that in these cases other powers are
at work than the demoniac or the divine. If every
belief of the kind that appeals to certain cases, to

NEGATIVE INSTANCES. 107

certain experiences, were forced to undergo ex-
perimentally the ordeal of negative instances, how
few would endure the test! What would be-
come of Swedenborg and Cagliostro? “It was
well answered by him,” says Bacon, “ who, being
shown in a temple the votive tablets of those who
had escaped the peril of shipwreck, and being,
moreover, pressed whether he would then acknow-
ledge the power of the gods, asked where were
the portraits of those who had perished after
making their vows. The same may be said of
nearly every kind of superstition, as that of astro-
logy, dreams, omens, retributive judgments, and
the like, in which men, delighted with vanities
of the sort, observe the events when they are
fulfilled, but neglect or pass them by, though
much more numerous, whenever a failure occurs.
But with much more subtilty does this evil in-
sinuate itself into philosophy and the sciences,
in which a maxim that has once been accepted
infects and governs all others, though much more
worthy of confidence. Besides, even if that
eagerness and vanity, to which we have referred,
did not exist, there is still this peculiar and per-
petual error in the human mind, that it is swayed
and excited more by affirmatives than by nega-
tives; whereas it ought duly and regularly to
regard both with impartiality; nay, in establish-

108 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

ing any true axiom there is greater force in the

| negative than in the positive instance.”* For
| manifestly that which is refuted by a single in-
|

stance cannot be proved by an hundred.

' The negative instances, of which Bacon would
make methodical use, stand in his philosophy as a
security against too credulous reliance on indi-
vidual experience; against all hasty assumption ;
in a word, against “idols.” They constitute, in the
philosophical understanding, the spirit of contra-
diction ; the logical goad of that “ enlightenment”
(Aufklirung) that the successors of Bacon have
diffused over the earth. The Anglo-Gallic “ en-

lightenment,” in every case, directs this weapon

* “Recte respondit ille, qui, cum suspensa tabula in templo ei
monstraretur eorum qui vota solverant quod naufragii periculo
elapsi sint, atque interrogando premeretur anne tum quidem
deorum numen agnosceret, quesivit denuo, At ubi sint ill
depicti qui post vota nuncupata perierint ? Eadem ratio est fere
omnis superstitionis, ut in astrologicis, in somniis, ominibus,
nemesibus, et hujusmodi; in quibus homines delectati hujus-
modi vanitatibus advertunt eventus ubi implentur, ast ubi fal-
lunt (licet multo frequentius) tamen negligunt et preetereunt.
At longe subtilius serpit hoc malum in philosophiis et scientiis ;
in quibus quod semel placuit reliqua (licet multo firmiora et
potiora) inficit et in ordinem redigit. Quinetiam licet abfuerit
ea quam diximus delectatio et vanitas, is tamen humano intel-
lectui error est proprius et perpetuus, ut magis moveatur et
excitetur affirmativis quam negativis ; cum rite et ordine equum
se utrique praebere debeat; quin contra, in omni axiomate
vero constituendo, major est vis instantiz negative.”—JVov.

Org. I. 46.

CRITICAL EXPERIENCE. 109

against the Idola Theatri, with which it con-
tends, and batters down authorised systems by
advancing facts in opposition; that is to say,
negative instances. When Locke, for example,
opposes the Cartesian theory of “ Innate Ideas,”
by citing the cases of individuals who are des-
titute of the ideas that have been called “ ine
nate,” it is in a truly Baconian spirit that, while
attacking the assumed doctrine, he appeals to the
negative instance. And with this negative in-
stance he is satisfied that he has completely re-
futed Descartes.

Mere experience will not guard us against idols,
much less the unassisted understanding. Critical
experience can alone defend science against illusion.
For mere experience does not observe negative
instances, but collects cases, and from them hastily
derives axioms; while as for the unassisted under-
standing, it derives its knowledge solely from
itself, without observing any external instances at
all. Thus neither attain true copies of things.
On the other hand, critical experience combines
the wealth of experience with the force of the
understanding, thus avoiding the one-sidedness
and consequently the errors of both. It collects
by sifting, and is thus both experimental and in-
tellectual; is a rational thinking experience. Here
alone does Bacon find the salvation of science ; in

110 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

the union of reason and experience, while the de-
plorable condition of science he attributes to their
separation. ‘“ We think,” he says, “that we have
established for ever a real and legitimate union
between the empirical and rational faculties, whose
morose and inauspicious divorces and repudiations
have brought so much disturbance to the human
family.”

Thus does Bacon oppose his own point of view
to that of the past, as new and more elevated,
reconciling as it does the stubborn differences that
have hitherto existed. This opposition of facul-
ties was necessarily unfruitful in its results, and
it is only from their union that a fruitful and in-
ventive science can take its beginning. In that
happily figurative language, which constitutes one
of the great qualities of his style, Bacon com-
pares mere experience to the ants, that can do
nothing but collect; the unaided understanding to
spiders, that spin webs from themselves; the
thinking experience (which is his own) to the
bees, that collect and separate at the same time.
He says: “ Those who have hitherto treated of
the sciences have been either empiricists or dog-
matists. The former, like ants, only heap up,
and use what they have collected; the latter, like
spiders, spin webs out of themselves; the method
of the bee is between these, it collects matter

THE ANT, THE SPIDER, AND THE BEE, 11]

from the gardens and the fields, but converts and
digests it through its own faculty. Nor does the
true labour of philosophy differ from that of the
bee; for it relies neither solely nor principally on
the powers of the mind, nor does it store up un-
digested in the memory the matter derived from
Natural History and mechanical experiments, but
it stores such matter in the understanding, after
first modifying and subduing it. Therefore, from
a closer and purer alliance of these faculties (the
experimental and the rational) than has yet been
accomplished, we have much to hope.”* The
matter collected by experience is wrought into
science by methodic treatment; that is to say, by
true induction, in relation to which it stands as
an utensil to be employed, or as a wood to be
cleared. f

* “Qui tractaverunt scientias aut Empirici aut Dogmatici
fuerunt. Empirici, formice more, congerunt tantum et utuntur ;
Rationales, aranearum more, telas ex se conficiunt : apis vero
ratio media est, que materiam ex floribus horti et agri elicit, sed
tamen eam propria facultate vertit et digerit. Neque absimile
philosophiz verum opificium est; quod nec mentis viribus
tantum aut preecipue nititur, neque ex historia naturali et
mechanicis experimentis prebitam materiam, in memoria in-
tegram, sed in intellectu mutatam et subactam, reponit. Itaque
ex harum facultatum (experimentalis scilicet et rationalis)
arctiore et sanctiore foedere (quod adhuc factum non est) bene
sperandum est.”—Vov. Org. I. 95. Compare also Cogitata et
Visa.

+ Thus in the “ Parasceve” Bacon describes the “ Historia
Naturalis” as “ vere: inductionis supellex sui silva.”

1b’. FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

Ill. InpvuctTion AND DEDUCTION IN THE BACONIAN
SCIENCE.

Thus the first problem is solved. It is shown how

pure experience proceeds from doubt or the des-
truction of idols, and how this experience results
in science. It is shown what road leads from
observation to law, from experiment to axiom.
The sensuous perception with which experience
sets out frees itself from z¢s idols (delusions of the
senses) by rectifying experiments. ‘The inference
of the law from the fact, with which experience
ends, frees itself from zs idols (fallacious conclu-
sions) by a careful consideration of negative in-
stances and a comparison of them with the positive.
This comparison is the second experiment. I, as
it were, ask nature whether the law that is found
is true, and will stand every test. “ An expe-

Bees

a

riment,” says a modern writer, “is a question .) lod, a
which nature gives the reply.” This propositio

is so correct that we may also assert its converse.
Every question put to nature is an experiment;
and I question nature by directing myself to her
instances, and compelling them to render an
account of themselves. Nature is compared by
Bacon to Proteus, who only answers when he is

EXPERIMENT THE MEANS OF INVENTION. 113

compelled and bound.* The first experiment
rectifies the perception, the second rectifies the
inference.

The question, then, that remains is this: how
can knowledge, attained by the way of experience,
become invention? For invention is the goal which
is steadily kept in view by the Baconian philo-
sophy. ‘The simple answer is: by the applica-
tion of the discovered laws. If this application
is possible, invention cannot fail. If I know the
forces by which lightning is guided and attract-
ed, I am certain of my lightning-conductor as
soon as the required forces are at my disposal.
This application of known natural forces is a
new question to nature, practically put, —a new
experiment, Therefore experiment is not only
the means by which experience becomes science,
but also the means by which science becomes in-

j vention. Making experiments, I proceed from

observation to axiom, from axiom to invention.
“There is left for us,” says Bacon, “ pure expe-
rience, which, if it offers itself, is called chance ; if
it is sought, is called experiment. But this kind
of experience is nothing but a broom without a
band (as the saying is), a mere groping in the
dark, as of men who, at night, try all means of

* Compare “De Augm. Scient.” II. 2. Also the “ Wisdom of

the Ancients,” 13.
I

114 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

discovering the right road, when it would be
much more expedient to wait for the dawn of
day, or to kindle a light and then proceed. On
the contrary, the true order of experience first
kindles the light, then shows the way by means
of this light; beginning with a regulated and
digested, not a misplaced and erratic course of
experiment, thence deducing axioms, and then,
from the axioms thus established, making new ex-
periments. Not even the Divine Word operated
on the mass of things without order. Let men,
therefore, cease to wonder, if the whole course of
science be not run, when they have altogether
wandered from the path; quitting and deserting
experience entirely, or entangling themselves and
roaming about in it, as in a labyrinth; when a
true orderly method would lead them by a sure
path through the woods of experience to the open
daylight of axioms.” *

* «*Restat experientia mera, que, si occurrat, casus; Si
quesita sit, experimentum nominatur. Hoc autem experientie
genus nihil aliud est, quam (quod aiunt) scope dissolute, et
mera palpatio, quali homines noctu utuntur, omnia pertentando,
si forte in rectam viam incidere detur ; quibus multo satius et
consultius foret diem prestolari, aut lumen accendere, et dein-
ceps viam inire. At contra, verus experientie ordo primo
lumen accendit, deinde per lumen iter demonstrat, incipiendo
ab experientia ordinata et digesta, et minime prepostera aut
erratica, atque ex ea educendo axiomata, atque ex axiomatibus
constitutis rursus experimenta nova ; quum nec verbum divyinum

INDUCTION AND DEDUCTION. 115

The Baconian Induction proceeds from expe-
riment to axiom; the Baconian deduction from
axiom to experiment.* ‘The former is the me-
thod of interpretation, the latter that of appli-
cation. The former ends with the discovery of
a law, the latter with an invention. Thus does
Bacon’s philosophy, like his life, terminate with
the triumph of experiment.

in rerum massam absque ordine operatum sit. Itaque desinant
homines mirari si spatium scientiarum non confectum sit, cum a
via omnino aberraverint; relicta prorsus et deserta experientia,
aut in ipsa (tanquam in labyrintho) se intricando et circumcur-
sando ; cum rite institutus ordo per experientix sylvas ad aperta
axiomatum tramite constanti ducat.” — Nov. Org. I. 82.

(With respect to the curious expression, “ Scope dissolute,”
which occurs in this passage, and which is rendered above,
“a broom without a band,” Mr. Spedding remarks: “I do not
remember any proverbial expression which answers to this in
English ; but the allusion is to the want of combination and
coherency in these experiments.”—J. O.)

* Compare these words: “ Indicia de Interpretatione Natura
complectuntur partes in genere duas ; primam de educendis aut
excitandis axiomatibus ab experientia; secundam de deducen-
dis aut derivandis experimentis novis ab axiomatibus.” — ov,
Org. II. 10. (In the places marked by italics, Dr. Fischer
respectively reads “ Judicia” and “ experimentis.” — J. O.)

12

116 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM,

CHAT ON

PREROGATIVE INSTANCES AS AIDS TO INDUCTION.—NATURAL
ANALOGIES AS PREROGATIVE INSTANCES.

Tue difficulties to which the method of induction
is exposed from a scientific point of view are
obvious; and Bacon was not the man to conceal
from himself the difficulties of his subject, either
through fear or negligence. Indeed, difficulties
that terrify others are to him no more than in-
citements that stimulate his enterprising and cir-
cumspect mind. He seeks them out, and makes
them conspicuous in order to remove them by as
many expedients as he can discover. In such
expedients, when he has found them, Bacon really
triumphs. Here he is in his proper element ;—
endowed, not with a systematic, but with an in-
ventive intellect. To judge him as a system-
maker (a character to which he does not aspire),
is simply to misunderstand him; he is not to be in
the least confuted by the proof that his method is
fragmentary, and leads to no final result. Such
a proof would be as easy as it would be value-
less. Bacon himself would willingly bear the

EXPEDIENTS AGAINST DIFFICULTIES. 117

reproach, and would convert it into a defence.
“It is the very nature of my method,” he would
say, “that it neither seeks nor desires a final
result. If I have indicated the necessary goals,
shown the right way, travelled part of this way
myself, removed difficulties, and devised expedi-
ents, I have done enough, and may leave the rest
to future generations. They will go further than
I; but it is to be hoped they will not arrive at an
absolute conclusion. It is sufficient, to guide men
into the path of progressive cultivation, to fur-
nish them with means for the extension of their
knowledge, and consequently of their dominion.
On this path every point affords a triumph, and
constitutes a goal in itself. As for the last goal,
—the conclusion of all toil,—those alone can
reach it who take no part in the great race of
human faculties.” Thoroughly to understand such

“eo

minds as that of Bacon, we must look for them
where their own method leaves them in the lurch;
where they are forced to exert their own per-
sonal faculties; where they are compelled to fill
up the gaps in their theory by means of their
genius, of their individual tact, of that something
which I may call the generalship of philosophy.
If Bacon’s historical importance is most con-

spicuous when he formulises his problem, and

propounds his method, his personal peculiarity,
rs

118 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

his own especial talent is most visibly shown
when, with expedients of his own invention, he
defends himself against the difficulties by which
his method is impeded. Here we can see who
is master and who is disciple; for it commonly
happens that a gap in the master’s method is also
a gap in the head of the scholar, but none at all
in the head of the master. Thus, even at the
present day, the disciples of Bacon boast much of
Bacon’s method when they oppose the contrary
tendency, which is its complement. They do not
know how much this tendency was akin to the
mind of Bacon; how he grasped it involuntarily
and instinctively when his method abandoned
him. They do not know that he, the master,
clearly pereeived those defects in his method
which they, the disciples, would willingly ignore.
When Bacon can proceed no further as an expe-
rimental investigator of nature, he becomes, in
spite of his method, a speculative natural philo-
-sopher. We have designedly pointed out the
affinity between Bacon and his intellectual anti-
podes, that we may show how comprehensively
he thought, and how he could complete himself
from his own resources. ‘Thus, in the founda-
tion of philosophy, he agreed with Descartes ;
in his physical views, with Spinoza; and even
in the auxiliary forces (Hiilfstruppen) of his

DEFECTS OF THE BACONIAN METHOD. 119

philosophy a similarity to the speculative ideas
of Leibnitz, Herder, and Schelling may be dis-
covered,

I. Tue Derects or tar BaconrAn MErTuHOp.

What is the purpose of the inductive method
in Bacon’s sense of the word? It would reduce
natural science to axioms as indisputable as those
of mathematics, and these axioms it would discover
on the path of critical experience by an unre-
mitting observation of negative instances. Now
here arises a double difficulty :

1, The observation of negative instances by no
means implies their exhaustion; and yet they
must be exhausted if an axiom is to be established.
Against the axiom it must no longer be possible
to oppose a single negative instance; and this
impossibility must be capable of demonstration.*
That we cease to find negative instances is not
enough; we must also be able to prove that
there are really no more. Now this proof can
never be furnished by experience, which cannot
even assert, much less prove, that a contradictory
instance is impossible; for nature is richer than
experience. Bacon rightly desires that science

* Vide p. 104,
14

120 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

should seek after axioms in that sense of thorough
universality and necessity that prohibits any
exception. But this very universality, in all its
strictness, is never to be completely attained by

the way of experience, but can only be approached,
By the method of induction, the negative instances
can never be drained to the lees.

2. But the very observation of negative in-
stances, consisting as it does of a careful com-
parison between positive and contradictory cases,
is attended with difficulty. So long as these
cases balance each other, very many of them
must be collected, and an accurate comparison
must be continued through a long series of them,
before we can so much as attempt to deduce an
axiom from the facts before us. iverything
depends on the exclusion of contingencies; and
to effect this purpose many cases, much time, and
much labour, are required. An inference drawn
from a few cases has manifestly more to fear from
negative instances than one that has been drawn
from many. In the number, therefore, of cases
compared, lies the only possible guarantee against
the existence of negative instances.

PREROGATIVE INSTANCES, 121

II. Tue PREROGATIVE INSTANCES.

The difficulties are manifest. Means are to be
sought for removing, or at least lightening them.
Such means are the auzilia mentis, enumerated
by Bacon, who, moreover, expatiates fully on one
of them in the second book of his “ Novum
Organum.” *

This one expedient is the chief of them all;
its use is to support the method by completing
it on the one hand, and facilitating it on the
other. The method consists in the separation of
contingent from necessary conditions, and its
difficulty lies in the breadth of the required
material,— in the tediousness, minuteness, and
insecurity of the comparison. By facilitating
the work of separation, we likewise shorten it,
rendering the contingent conditions more easily
discernible, the essential more capable of super-
vision. This can only be effected by reducing
the many cases to a few, so that a few will serve
me in the place of many. But by what right
can I do this? So long as one case is as worthy

* Compare Nov. Org. II. 21—52. The second vol. of the
“Novum Organum” is unfinished, as well as the “ Instauratio
Magna,” of which the whole “ Novum Organum” was to have
formed the second part.

122 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

of attention as another, so long as in this respect
opposite cases are equally balanced, we must
obviously have many of them before we can
make any efficient comparison at all. But if
there are certain cases, one of which is equal
in value to a series of others, we shall then
rightly consider one of the former, instead of
many of the latter, and thus the more speedily
obtain our result. Such cases are more worthy
of our observation than the rest, and have, by
their very nature, a sort of prerogative. Hence
they are called “ prerogative instances” by Bacon.
» Without doubt there are cases in which a given
natural phenomenon is exhibited more purely and
free from mixture than in others; in which the
contingent circumstances, being fewer, may
be more rapidly excluded, and therefore the
essential conditions more easily and clearly ascer-
tained. A prerogative instance facilitates the
work of separation, inasmuch as it shows me,
almost at a single glance, the true difference
(vera differentia), the operative nature, the law of
the phenomenon. What I should otherwise be
forced to seek with great toil, and by a tedious
comparison from a multitude of instances, I here
find at once presented in a single phenomenon.
Thus, for example, if the question is of specific
eravity, the mere fact that quicksilver is so much

THEORY OF COLOUR. 123

heavier than gold is sufficient to show that the
specific gravity of a body is regulated by its
mass, not by the cohesion of its parts. This one
observation will save me many others.* Or if
the question is respecting a phenomenon that is
to be found in all bodies, I shall find the purest
specimen in such bodies that have little or nothing
in common with others. Such “ solitary in-
stances,” as Bacon calls them, save us the trouble y
of future comparison. Thus, for example, the
phenomenon of colour is discovered most readily,
and with the least heterogeneous admixture, in
prisms, crystals, and dewdrops; for these have
little or nothing in common with other coloured
bodies, such as flowers, stones, metals, varieties
of wood, &c. They are, in this respect, single
instances (instantie solitarie); and from observing
them we easily arrive at the result, that “colour
is nothing but a modification of the image of the
incident and absorbed light; in the former case,
by the different degrees of incidence; in the

latter, by the textures and various forms of
bodies.” f

* Such prerogative instances are called by Bacon: Ostensive,
Liberatx, Preedominantes, and Elucescentis, Nov. Org. IT. 24.

T “Facile colligitur quod color nil aliud sit quam modificatio
imaginis lucis immisse et recepte ; in priore genere per gradus
diversos incidentix, in posteriore per texturas et varios schema-
tismos corporis.”

124 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

Géothe, in his “ Materials towards the History
of the Theory of Colours,” has made mention of
Bacon ; but, strangely enough, he has not cited
this remarkable passage. Evidently he was not
aware of it; for, if he had been, he would cer-
tainly have referred to it, inasmuch as it confirms
his own view. In fact, it contains the principle
of Gdéthe’s theory before Newton. Gidthe is
altogether ignorant of the Baconian theory of
Prerogative Instances, otherwise he would not
have said that to Bacon, in the broad region of
phenomena, all things were alike. Indeed, he
treats the general method of Bacon with too much
contempt, ranking it no higher than ordinary ex-
perience, and accusing it of leading mankind to a
boundless empiricism, “ whereby they acquired
such a horror of all method, that they regarded
chaotic disorder as the only soil in which science
could really thrive.” This reproach applies to
most of those who, at the present day, profess to
be followers of Bacon, but not to Bacon himself,
whose intellect was not only methodical, but even
speculative. His explanation of the phenomenon
of colour, which is merely given by way of ex-
ample, while he is treating of another subject,
expresses the same fundamental thought that
Gothe sought to establish,—as he believed, for
the first time,—against Newton. Gothe says of

NATURAL ANALOGIES. 125

Newton’s Theory of Colours: —“ By his desire
to keep light alone in view, Newton seems to set
out from a simple principle, but he imposes con-
ditions upon it, as we do; while, however, he
denies their integrating part in producing the
result.” These conditions are bodies transparent
and opaque, and the share that they take in the pro-
duction of colour is clearly and definitely declared
by Bacon in the passage cited above. *

Ill. Naturat ANALOGIEs.

Prerogative Instances, of which Bacon enu- »

merates twenty-seven, are phenomena that pre-
eminently rivet, and, moreover, merit our atten-
tion. “They are pregnant instances from which
much may be inferred by an accelerated induc-

tion, by a rapid separation of the contingent from .

the necessary.| But, according to Bacon, all
induction, all methodical experience is directed
towards real natural philosophy, which, like every
earnest science, necessarily strives after perfection,
and, from a knowledge of the individual, seeks a
knowledge of the universal. To this truly scien-
tific impulse Bacon was by no means foreign.
Like every other great thinker, he possessed it;

* Vide Appendix B.

a

nee

126 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

the knowledge of the whole was ever before his eyes,
as the last point to which natural science should
tend; only, according to his view, it should be
attained by the labour of bees, not by that of
spiders. Induction proceeds from observation to
axiom, from fact to law ; when it has explained a
few facts, it is naturally impelled to explain more,
to extend the compass of its laws, and to progress
continually in the generalisation of its axioms. The
most universal axiom is that of entire nature; the
highest law is that which explains a// phenomena.
As every law expresses the unity of certain phe-
nomena, so does this highest law express the
unity of nature as a whole; the unitas nature.
This is the goal which Bacon proposes to science ;
to this his method is expressly directed. He did
not lay down the unity of nature as a principle,
but would learn it from nature herself, would infer
it from her phenomena. Like Spinoza, he sees
in things a natura naturata, at the basis of which,
as an operative power, lies the natura naturans,
which, in his eyes, .is also a common source of
all things, —a unitas nature. However, while
Spinoza, from the xatura naturans would deduce
the naturata, Bacon, on the other hand, would
fem the naturata induce the naturans.

He therefore seeks phenomena in nature, that
point to the unity of the whole, open a view into

NATURAL ANALOGIES. 127

the unity of entire nature, and thus assist the
inferences of induction. If there are certain
phenomena which, more than others, lead us to
surmise the unity of the whole, they rivet our at-
tention, when directed to the whole, as so many
prerogative instances. Of what kind these preg-
nant instances must be, is obvious enough. They
are the prominent resemblances in the various
formations of nature, the significant analogies
that announce to us a unanimity in the operative
forces. Here Bacon regards induction in the
light of analogy, that is, he leads the investiga-_
tions of physical science to the affinity of things,
by directing them to the unity of the whole.*
He shows as it were nature’s family likenesses,
and we have now to find the pedigree of things,
together with its roots.

In the exhibition of analogies, Bacon displays
a characteristic peculiarity of his mind. ‘To re-
gard induction in the light of analogy, the things
analogous must be discovered and correctly ob-
served. Now the discovery is made not by the
method, but by the eye of the investigator; the
method follows the discovery, when the latter is
ii a “eleteepet

* Compare Nor. Org. I. 27: “Inter Prerogativas Instan-
tiarum ponemus sexto loco Instantias conformes, sive propor-
tionatas ; quas etiam parallelas, sive similitudines physicas, appel-
lare consuevimus.”

128 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

already made. Moreover, it is not by mere sen-
suous perception, though aided by artificial in-
struments, that analogies are detected, but by the
further penetration of the mind. “The important
_ analogies are those internal, secret resemblances,
. that are not to be found on the surface of things,
—not to be apprehended at a glance by the senses.
A speculative spirit, a genius for investigation,
must seek them out; the tact that accompanies
genius must light upon them. Both these may be
methodically cultivated, but neither can be given.
Every true analogy is a correct combination made
by a judicious intellect. Dexterous as Bacon
is in supporting his method by means of striking
combinations, he still cautiously restrains the
readily combining intellect by the aid of his
methodical spirit. I will not assert that Bacon
himself never transcended these bounds, that all
his analogies were as felicitous as they are bold
and ingenious; but with respect to the scope and
scientific value of analogy, he was _ perfectly
clear. He sought an equilibrium between his
genius and his method; by which, alternately,
his mind was ever influenced. yen before
he adduces his analogies —(as mere examples,
which he scatters about heedlessly as he goes
along, but which would afford an ample sus-
tenance to many a natural philosopher of modern

USE OF ANALOGIES. 129

times), he sets judicious limits to their importance,
and the use that is to be made of them. To him
they appear rather as suggestive than as sources
of exact knowledge, and serve more to direct the ,
contemplative understanding to the whole than —
to instruct it in details. The analogies are, as it
were, the first chords that we hear of the harmony
of the universe. -* They are, as it were,” says
Bacon, “the first and truest steps towards the
union of nature. They do not at once establish
an axiom, but only indicate and observe a certain
conformity of bodies to each other. But although
they do not conduce much to the discovery of
general laws (or forms), they are, nevertheless, of
great service in disclosing the fabrication of parts
of the universe, and practise a sort of anatomy
upon its members. Thence they sometimes lead us,
as if by hand, to sublime and noble axioms, espe-
cially those that relate to the configuration of the
world rather than to simple natures and forms.

* “Sunt tanquam primi et infimi gradus ad unionem Nature.
Neque constituunt aliquod axioma statim ab initio, sed indicant
et observant tantum quendam consensum corporum, Attamen
licet non multum promoveant ad inveniendas formas, nihilo-
minus magna cum utilitate revelant partium universi fabricam,
et in membris ejus exercent veluti anatomiam quandam ; atque
proinde veluti manu-ducunt interdum ad axiomata sublimia
et nobilia, presertim illa que ad mundi configurationem perti-
nent, potius quam ad naturas et formas simplices.” — JVov. Org.
IL. 27.

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Wx K

9* |

130 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

And even while Bacon is occupied in setting
forth his analogies, which rush through the world
with the boldest combinations, he interrupts him-
self, remarks anew the use of analogy to science,
and also the danger to which this sort of combina-
tion is exposed. This is quite right. It is only
with the aid of analogy that induction can bring
real unity into natural science, and discover that
spiritual connection of things that can never be
found through a mere description of parts, and is
at last lost sight of altogether. ‘It is especially
to be recommended, and more frequently to be
suggested, that the diligence of man in the in-
vestigation and compilation of natural history be
henceforward entirely changed and converted to
the contrary of that which has been hitherto in use.
Hitherto the industry of man has been great and
curious in noting the variety of things, and in ex-
plaining the accurate differences of animals, vege-
tables, and minerals, many of which are rather
the sport of nature than of any real utility to
science. Things of this sort are amusing, and
sometimes not without practical use, but they con-
tribute little or nothing towards the investigation
of nature. Our labour, therefore, must be re-
versed, and directed to the inquiry and notation

of the resemblances and analogies of things, both

in the whole and in part. For these analogies

UNITY MORE IMPORTANT THAN VARIETY. 131

unite nature, and lay the foundation of science.” *
“It seems of no great utility to recount or know
the marvellous varieties of flowers, whether of
iris or tulip, of shells, dogs, or hawks. For things
of this sort are nothing but the sports and wanton-
ness of nature, and nearly approach the nature of
individuals. By means of these we have a minute
knowledge of things, but scanty and often unpro-
fitable information with respect to science. Yet
these are the things of which common natural
history makes a boast.” Nevertheless, analogies
must be cautiously and critically sought; for if,

* “Tilud omnino precipiendum est et sepius monendum, ut
diligentia hominum in inquisitione et congerie Naturalis Histo-
riz deinceps mutetur plane, et vertatur in contrarium ejus quod
nunc in usu est. Magna enim hucusque atque adeo curiosa fuit
hominum industria in notanda rerum varietate atque expli-
candis accuratis animalium, herbarum, et fossilium differentiis;
quarum plereeque magis sunt lusus nature quam serie alicujus
utilitatis versus scientias. Faciunt certe hujusmodi res ad
delectationem, atque etiam quandoque ad praxin; verum ad
introspiciendam naturam parum aut nihil. Itaque convertenda
plane est opera ad inquirendas et notandas rerum similitudines
et analoga, tam in integralibus quam partibus. Illx enim sunt
que naturam uniunt, et constituere scientias incipiunt.” — Nov.
Org. IL. 27.

T “Non multum ad rem faciunt memorare aut nosse florum,
iris aut tulips, aut etiam concharum aut canum aut accipitrum
eximias varietates. Hee enim hujusmodi nil aliud sunt quam
nature lusus quidem et lascivia ; et prope ad naturam indivi-
duorum accedunt. Itaque habent cognitionem in rebus ipsis
exquisitam; informationem vero ad scientias tenuem et fere
supervacuam. Atque hee sunt tamen illa in quibus naturalis

K 2

132 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

on the one hand, the endless varieties of things
are often a mere sport of nature, so may the
analogies, discovered by our own combinations,
easily prove. to be a mere sport of the under-
standing or the imagination. We make analogies
that are not in nature; find analogies that in
truth are none; fix our attention on casual, non-
essential points of resemblance, and thus infer
much from that which says nothing. Sports of
this sort, to which a speculative and heedless
imagination or a dreamy intellect willingly aban-
dons itself, have peopled the region of natural
science with a multitude of idols. If analogies
are to be fruitful in results, they must embrace
¢ essential resemblances ; they must be, as it were,
learned by listening at the secret workshop of
nature. Hence Bacon proceeds to insist : * That
in all these (analogies) a severe and rigorous
caution be observed, that we only accept, as simi-
lar and proportionate instances, those that denote
natural resemblances, — that is to say, real, sub-
stantial, and immersed_in_nature; not merely

casual and superficial, much less superstitious or
exceptional, like those always brought forward by

historia vulgaris se jactat.”— Descript. Globi Intellectualis, cap.
iii. [This citation is added to the note in the original, but
it accords so well with the language of the text, that I have
ventured to place it there. —J. O.]

BOLDNESS OF BACON’S ANALOGIES. 133

the writers on natural magic (men of the least
account, and scarcely worthy of mention in serious
matters, such as those of which we now treat),
who with much vanity and folly describe, and some-

times invent, idle resemblances and sympathies.”*

The analogies themselves, that Bacon cites as
examples, are of the boldest kind, seeing far and
anticipating much, — attractive points of view,
affording a rich and fertile prospect. With a few
strokes he sketches the great pedigree of things,
and shows by themost comprehensive combinations
how everything in the world belongs to one family.
Never, perhaps, was such a promising view into
the connection of the universe afforded in the

form of concise aphorism and cursory example.

Bacon begins by comparing the mirror with the
eye; the ear with the echo. The mirror and the
eye reflect rays of light; the ear and the echo
reflect the undulations of sound. Bacon concludes
that there is a general analogy between the organs

* “Verum in his omnino est adhibenda cautio gravis et
severa, ut accipiantur pro instantiis conformibus et propor-
tionatis, ille que denotant similitudines physicas; id est, rea-
les et substantiales et immersas in natura, non fortuitas et
ad speciem; multo minus superstitiosas aut curiosas, quales
naturalis magi scriptores (homines levissimi, et in rebus tam
seriis quales nune agimus vix nominandi) ubique ostentant;
magna cum vanitate et desipientia, inanes similitudines et sym-
pathias rerum describentes atque etiam quandoque affingentes.”
— Lib. II. 27,

K 3

|

}

134 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

of sense and reflecting bodies; between organic
and inorganic nature. The idea of an analogy
pervading all natural phenomena is clearly before
his mind. All the relations and moods of inani-
mate nature are perceptible, and when they are
not perceived by us, this is owing to the nature
of our own bodies, to which so many senses are
wanting ; however, there are more (or at least as
many) movements in inanimate than senses in
animated bodies. Thus, for example, as many
kinds of painful sensation as are possible to the
human frame, so many kinds of motion, such as
squeezing, pricking, contraction, extension, &c.,
are there in inanimate bodies; only these, through
the want of vitality, do not feel them.” *

The comparison between organic and inorga-
nic nature in general is carried by Bacon into
analogies between details. He remarks similar
formations between plants and stones, and by
way of example compares gum with certain gems.
These, according to him, are exudations and
filterings (percolationes) of juices, the sap of trees
exuding in the shape of gum; the moisture of
rocks, after the same fashion, as a transparent
gem. Hence the brightness and clearness of the
vegetable and mineral formations, both of which

* These analogies are all to be found in ov. Org. lib.

\ IL 27.

INSTANCES OF ANALOGY. 135

are, as it were, filtered juices. Thus, among
animals, the wings of birds are more beautiful
and more vividly coloured than the hair of beasts,
because the juices are not so delicately filtered
through the thick skin as through the quills. In
the formation of plants Bacon remarks a similar
structure in the different parts, and in the spirit
of modern morphology (which arose so long after
him) calls attention to the fact, that in vegetable
growth the constituent parts, both above and
below, spread out towards the circumference. In
their position, at opposite extremities of the plant,
Bacon finds the only distinction between the
branches and the roots. The roots are branches
working their way downwards into the earth;
the branches are roots striving upwards towards
the air and sun. In the animal kingdom Bacon
compares the fins of fishes with the feet of qua-
drupeds, and the feet and wings of birds; and the
formation of teeth with that of beaks.

The structure of the plant he compares with
that of man, saying that the latter is, as it were,
a plant inverted (planta inversa). The brain in
man, whence the nerves take their origin, to
spread in countless ramifications through the
entire frame, corresponds to the root in plants. To
no one were the analogies between man and plant
more attractive than to Herder, who was never

K4

136 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

weary of spinning out and repeating this simile
with every possible variation. It was a fault
in him that he used this planta inversa as a
characteristic of man, which he could interpret
as a symbol of universal history. Herder’s intel-
lect was made for analogies. Every analogy was
a theme, on which he could compose a fantasia,
and indeed what he called his “ Ideas” were
mere analogies after all. From such points of
view he derived his theories of the history of
mankind. His combinations were generally sug-
gestive, seldom accurate, and he might serve as
an eminent example to illustrate the genius of
analogy, with all its aberrations and its blunders.
To this point especially did Kant direct his
shafts in his critique of Herder’s “ Ideas,” show-
ing how frequently his analogies were uncertain,
and the conclusions drawn from them false.
Bacon treats the analogies which he introduces
into natural science with great tact; he does
not play with them, but contents himself with
noting the point of resemblance, and explaining
it in a few words; after which he hastens on to
new comparisons. From definite imstances he
infers universal analogies, which ultimately com-
prehend all nature, and these axioms he confirms
anew by fresh definite instances, —by special com-
‘parisons between minerals and plants, plants and

u

GEOGRAPHICAL ANALOGY. 137

animals, &c. Beginning with individual instances,
he at last directs his glance to the relations of
the whole world, and already anticipating the
speculative geography of our own time, observes
the analogies in the formation of the quarters
of the globe. Thus he is struck by the re-
semblance between Africa and South America,
both of which extend over the Southern Hemi-
sphere, while there is a further analogy between
the isthmus and promontory of both. “ This is
no mere accident ” (non temere accidit), he signifi-
cantly adds. He embraces both the Old and the
New World in one comparative view, and remarks
that these two huge masses of land become broad
as they approach the north, narrow and pointed
as they approach the south. There is something
great and striking in the very fact of these re-
marks; in the fact that here also Bacon has
discovered an analogy, which, without difficulty,
can be followed into its details. In a few
short hints, given in a cursory manner, he has
recognised a most interesting point in geogra-
phical science, namely, the importance to be
attached to the variations of the line of coast.
By way of conclusion, Bacon essays his compa-
rative glance on arts and sciences, and here also
seeks for analogies. He takes for his examples
rhetoric and music, mathematics and logic; find-

138 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

ing in the former similar tropes, in the latter
similar forms of reasoning. To the rhetorical
figure called preter expectationem, the musical
declinatio cadentie perfectly corresponds. In ma-
thematics there is the axiom that “things equal
to the same are equal to one another.” To this
there is a complete analogy in the logical form of
syllogism, which connects two terms by means of
a third.

We do not pronounce a judgment on the
scientific value and scope of all these analogies
which Bacon uses as examples. To us they are
important for the assistance they afford us, both
by their subject-matter, and by the manner of
their introduction, in arriving at a right know-
ledge of Bacon himself. They show a mind of
the most comprehensive vision, with a corre-
sponding acuteness in observing combinations.
| Bacon does not use an analogy as an object, but
as an instrument in aid of his method. Of this
~ Gnstrument he makes lavish use, according to the
dictates of his own inclination and abundant
power; he extends his grasp beyond the limits of
his method, and, in spite of all his caution, there
is imminent danger that he will not only abandon
this method, but act in direct opposition to it; for,
in truth, every analogy is an anticipatio mentis.
The very design of Bacon’s analogies shows that

ANALOGY SUPPLEMENTARY TO INDUCTION. 139 |

he sought more than can be afforded by experience.
He sought by this road what he could not discover
by that of induction alone, namely, the unity of
nature as manifested in the affinity of all things,
or the harmony of the universe. Here we find
Bacon in alliance with Leibnitz and his fol-
lowers, as we found him before with Spinoza
and Descartes. It will be but fair if we take
that comparative view of Bacon himself which he
took of all nature, pointing out his own mental
affinities, his own analogies, and aiding our ob-
servation by his “parallel instances,” which do
nothing to diminish his originality, but throw
a light on his comprehensive mind. What was
fundamental tendency in Leibnitz was supple-
mentary in Bacon, so that the axiom of the for-
mer was the auxiliary expedient of the latter.
Leibnitz as much needed induction as Bacon
needed analogy.

The mind of Bacon extends further than his
method; but in this very circumstance lies his
epoch-making power, and it imposes upon us the
necessity of comprehending his antagonism to
antiquity and the philosophy derived from it.
Thus we shall place ourselves in Bacon’s own
mental sphere and picture to ourselves that an-
tagonism, just as Bacon himself conceived it.

140 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

CHAP. VI.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF BACON IN ITS RELATION TO THE
PHILOSOPHY PRECEDING IT.

THE result of the Baconian philosophy, and the
logical order of its ideas, may be thus stated in
its principal features : —

1. Science should serve man by being use-
ful to him. Its use consists in inventions; the
object of which is the dominion of the human
race.

2. Science can only become inventive through
an exact knowledge of things, and this is only
to be obtained by an interpretation of nature.

3. A correct interpretation of nature is only
possible through pure and methodical experience.
Experience is pure when it does not judge ac-
cording to “idols” and human analogies, when
it does not anthropomorphise things, when it
is, mere experimentalising perception. LExpe-
rience is methodical as true induction. Induction
is true when, by an accurate and critical com-
parison, it infers laws from a number of particular
instances. Comparison is critical when it opposes

OPPOSITION TO ANTIQUITY. 141

negative to positive instances. Moreover, the
process of inductive reasoning is accelerated by
the investigation of prerogative instances. Ex-
perience, thus disciplined, avoids from first to last
all uncertain and premature hypotheses.

Thus Bacon sets up his principle and himself
in opposition to the past. He sees that his own
principles comprise all the conditions requisite for
a thorough renovation of science, such as no one
before him had the courage or the vigour to
effect ; he feels that he is himself the bearer of
the renovating spirit, — the scientific reformer.
** No one,” he says, “ has as yet been found en-
dowed with sufficient firmness and vigour to re-
solve upon and undertake the thorough abolition
of common theories and notions, and the fresh
application of the intellect, thus cleared and
rendered impartial, to the study of particulars,
Hence human reason, such as we have it now, is
a mere farrago and crude mass made up of much
credulity, much accident, and, withal, of those
puerile notions which are imbibed early in life,
But if some one of mature age, sound senses, and
a disabused mind, should apply himself anew to
experience and the study of particulars, we might
have better hope of him.”* « Some hope might,

* “Nemo adhuc tanta mentis constantia et rigore inventus est,
ut dicaverit et sibi imposuerit theorias et notiones communes

142 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

we think, be afforded by my own example; and
we do not say this for the sake of boasting, but
because it may be useful. If any feel a want of
confidence, let them look at me,—a man who,
among his contemporaries, has been most en-
gaged in public affairs, who is of somewhat infirm
health (which of itself occasions great loss of
time), and who, in this matter, is assuredly the
first explorer, neither following in the steps of
another, nor communicating his own thoughts to
a single individual; but who, nevertheless, having
once firmly entered upon the right way, and
submitted his mind to things, has (I think) made
some advance.” *

If we now compare Bacon’s philosophy with

penitus abolere, et intellectum abrasum et equum ad particularia
de integro applicare. Itaque ratio illa humana quam habemus,
ex multa fide et multo etiam casu, nec non ex puerilibus quas
primo hausimus notionibus, farrago quedam est et congeries.
Quod si quis state matura et sensibus integris et mente repur-
gata se ad experientiam et ad particularia de integro applicet,
de eo melius sperandum est.” — Nov. Org. I. 97.

* «Etiam nonnihil hominibus spei fieri posse putamus ab
exemplo nostro proprio; neque jactantize causa hoc dicimus sed
quod utile dictu sit. Si qui diffidant, me videant, hominem inter
homines eetatis mez civilibus negotiis occupatissimum, nec firma
admodum valetudine (quod magnum habet temporis dispen-
dium), atque in hac re plane protopirum, et vestigia nullius
secutum, neque hec ipsa cum ullo mortalium communicantem,
et tamen veram viam constanter ingressum et ingenium rebus
submittentem, heec ipsa aliquatenus (ut existimamus) provexisse.”
— Nov. Org. I. 113.

BACON AND KANT. 143

that which preceded it, we find, in all those points
that bear upon the reformation of science, a de-
cided antagonism. Bacon gives science another
purpose, another foundation, another tendency.

I. Tue Practicat Enp.

DOGMATISM AND SCEPTICISM.

Bacon immediately directs science to the use
of mankind, and to invention as the agent for
promoting it; he would make science practical
and generally useful, and from this point of
view opposes the scientific character previously
recognised, which was theoretic and only acces-
sible to the few. From an affair of the schools,
which it had hitherto been, Bacon would make of
science an affair of life, not merely because it
suited his inclination so to do, but as a necessary
consequence of his principles. Bacon’s plan of
renovation stands in an opposition to the an-
tique, similar to that of the Kantian philosophy,
Kant would make philosophy critical; Bacon
would make it practical. Preceding systems
appear uncritical to Kant, unpractical to Bacon.
In the summary judgment which both, from
opposite points of view, pronounce upon their
predecessors, both are alike incapable of doing

144 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

justice in any particular to the philosophical
culture of the past. They both agree that all
preceding philosophy has been mere fruitless spe-
culation, that the systems of the past fall into the
opposite extremes of dogmatism and scepticism,
and thus reciprocally annul each other’s results.
To Kant the representatives of dogmatic and
sceptical philosophy were Wolf and Hume; to
Bacon they were the dogmatic Aristotelians and
the academical sceptics, of whom he said that the
former came to false and rash conclusions, the
latter to none at all.* To embrace both these
epochs of modern philosophy in one common
expression, we may assert that Bacon and Kant,
convinced of the fruitlessness of all preceding
speculation, both desired to render philosophy
fruitful, and therefore practical. Bacon directed
it to a practical knowledge of nature, Kant to
a practical knowledge of self. The ripest fruit
of the Baconian philosophy is invention, so far as
it conduces to the dominion of man; that of the
Kantian is morality as based upon human free-
dom and autonomy.

Bacon is never weary of reproaching the past
with unfruitfulness, as a necessary consequence
of theoretical philosophy. People fancy that they
know a great deal, through this traditional system;

* Compare Nov. Org. 1. 67.

STERILITY OF ANCIENT SCIENCE. 145

nevertheless they make no advance, but remain
stationary and inactive. The belief in their wealth
is the cause of their poverty.* “ That philosophy,
which we have chiefly derived from the Greeks,
appears to be, as it were, the childhood of science,
being fertile in controversy, barren of effect.
Moreover, if sciences of this sort had not been a
dead letter, it seems highly improbable that they
would have remained, as they have, almost im-
movable on their ancient footing without acquiring
growth worthy of the human race; and this to such
an extent that frequently not only does an assertion
remain an assertion, but even a question remains
a question, and instead of being solved by discus-.
sion is fixed and maintained, so that the whole
tradition and succession of instruction exhibits as
on a stage the characters of master and scholar, but
not that of the inventor, or of him who has added
anything excellent to inventions. In mechanical
arts we find that the contrary is the case. These,
as if they partook of some vivifying air, are daily
increased and brought to perfection. On the
contrary, philosophy and the intellectual sciences,
like statues, are adored and celebrated like sta-
tues, but are not moved from the spot whereon
they stand.” f

* Opinio copisz =Causa inopise. — Cogit. Visa.
t “Et de utilitate aperte dicendum est, sapientiam istam
L

146 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

Tl. Tue PuysicaAL FOUNDATION.

Bacon, having decided that invention is the
end of science, takes physics as its foundation.

Thus he is in direct opposition to the philosophies
of every preceding age; to scholasticism, which,
at bottom, was nothing but theology, to the
Roman philosophy, which was chiefly occupied
with ethics, and to the Graco-classic, which
based physics upon metaphysics. Bacon first
shows that philosophy has hitherto been unfruit-
ful; then he investigates the causes of this sci-
entific poverty. The first of these causes he finds
in the fact that of the whole period recorded in
the history of mankind an extremely small portion

quam a Grecis potissimum hausimus pueritiam quandam
scientis videri. . . - Controversiarum enim ferax, operum
effocta est. . - . Praterea, si hujusmodi scientiz plane res
mortuz non essent, id minime videtur eventurum fuisse quod per
multa jam secula usu venit, ut ille suis immote fere hereant
vestigiis, nec incrementa genere humano digna sumant: eo
usque, ut sepenumero non solum assertio maneat assertio sed
etiam quzstio maneat questio, et per disputationes non solvatur
sed figatur et alatur, omnisque traditio et successio discipli-
narum representet et exhibeat personas magistri et auditoris,
non inventoris et ejus qui inventis aliquid eximium adjiciat. In
artibus autem mechanicis contrarium evenire videmus ; que, ac
si aure cujusdam vitalis forent participes, quotidie crescunt et
perficiuntur. . . . Philosophia contra et scientie intellec-
tuales, statuarum more, adorantur et celebrantur, sed non pro-
moventur.” — Pref. Inst. Magna,

THE THREE EPOCHS OF LEARNING. 147

has been devoted to science, and the second
in the fact that the smallest portion eyen of
scientific labour has been bestowed upon the
natural sciences. “ Of the five and twenty cen-
turies, which nearly comprise all the memory and
learning of man, scarcely six can be selected and
set apart as fertile in science and favourable to its
advancement. For deserts and wildernesses are
no less in times than in countries, and we can
rightly enumerate no more than three revolutions
and epochs of learning, namely, first the Greek ;
secondly, the Roman; and lastly, our own (that
is to say, the learning of the Western nations of
Europe); and to each of these scarcely two cen-
turies can be justly assigned. Even in those
ages, in which men’s wit and literature flourished
greatly, or even moderately, the smallest part of
human labour was bestowed upon Natural Phi-
losophy, which ought nevertheless to be regarded
as the great mother of all the sciences. For all
the arts and sciences torn from this root may
perhaps be polished and fitted for use, but they
will scarcely grow. It is well known that after
the Christian religion had been adopted and had
reached maturity, by far the greater number of
excellent wits devoted themselves to theology ;
that to this science the highest rewards were
offered, and all means of assistance were abun-
L 2

148 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

dantly supplied; and that thus. the study of
theology almost entirely occupied that third period
which has been given as that of the Western
Europeans; the rather because about the same time
when literature began to flourish, religious contro-
versies also began to bud forth. In the preceding
age, during that second or Roman period, the me-
ditation and labour of philosophers were chiefly
occupied and consumed by moral philosophy,
which held the place of theology among the
heathens. Moreover, in those times the greatest
minds applied themselves as much as possible to
civil affairs, on account of the magnitude of the
Roman Empire, which required the labour of
many men. But that age, during which Natural
Philosophy appeared to flourish chiefly among
the Greeks, was exceedingly short, since, in the
more ancient times, the seven wise men, as they
were called, all (with the exception of Thales),
devoted themselves to Moral Philosophy and
Politics; and in the times succeeding, after So-
crates had brought down philosophy from heaven
to earth, moral philosophy became still more
prevalent, and diverted the minds of men from
natural science. In the meanwhile let no one
expect great progress in the sciences (especially
their operative part) unless Natural Philosophy
be applied to particular sciences, and particular —

THE THREE EPOCHS OF LEARNING. 149

sciences again referred to Natural Philosophy.
Hence it arises that astronomy, optics, music,
many mechanical arts, medicine itself (and what
seems more wonderful) moral and political phi-
losophy, have no depth, but only glide over the
surface and variety of things; because these
sciences, having been once partitioned out and
established, are no longer nourished by Natural
Philosophy. Thus, there is little cause for
wonder that the sciences do not grow, when they
are separated from their roots.” *

* “Ex viginti quinque annorum centuriis, in quibus memoria
et doctrina hominum fere versatur, vix sex centuriz seponi et
excerpi possunt, que scientiarum feraces earumve proventui
utiles fuerunt. Sunt enim non minus temporum quam regionum
eremi et vastitates. Tres enim tantum doctrinarum revolutiones
et periodi recte numerari possunt: una, apud Grecos ; altera,
apud Romanos; ultima, apud nos, occidentales scilicet Europese
nationes: quibus singulis vix due centuries annorum merito
attribui possunt. . . . Per illas ipsas «tates quibus hominum
ingenia et liter maxime vel etiam mediocriter floruerint,
Naturalis Philosophia minimam partem humane opere sortita
sit. Atque hee ipsa nihilominus pro magna scientiarum matre
haberi debet. Omnes enim artes et scientise ab hac stirpe revulse,
poliuntur fortasse et in usum effinguntur, sed nil admodum
crescunt. At manifestum est, postquam Christiana fides recepta
fuisset et adolevisset, longe maximam ingeniorum prestantis-
simorum partem ad Theologiam se contulisse ; atque huic rei et
amplissima premia proposita, et omnis generis adjumenta co-
piosissime subministrata fuisse: atque hoc Thelogiz studium
pracipue occupasse tertiam illam partem sive periodum temporis
apud nos Europsos occidentales ; eo magis, quod sub idem fere
tempus et litere florere et controversix circa religionem pul-

L 3

150 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

Ill. THe ANTIFORMAL TENDENCY.

That he may arrive at a proper explanation of
nature, Bacon rejects all idols, including final
causes, generic notions and forms, as human
analogies that do not belong to the things them-
selves. To final he opposes efficient causes ;
to generic notions, individual things; to abstract

julare coeperint. At evo superiori, durante periodo illa secunda
apud Romanos, potissime philosophorum meditationes et indus-
trie in Morali Philosophia (que Ethnicis vice Theologie erat)
occupate et consumpte fuerunt: etiam summa ingenia illis
temporibus ut plurimum ad res civiles se applicuerunt, propter
magnitudinem imperii Romani, quod plurimorum hominum
opera indigebat. At illa estas, qua Naturalis Philosophia
apud Gracos maxime florere visa est, particula fuit temporis
minime diuturna; cum et antiquioribus temporibus septem illi
qui sapientes nominabantur, omnes (preter Thaletem) ad
Moralem Philosophiam et civilia se applicuerint ; et posterio-
ribus temporibus postquam Socrates philosophiam de ccelo in
terras deduxisset, adhuc magis invaluerit Moralis Philosophia,
et ingenia hominum a Naturali averterit. . . . Interimnemo
expectet magnum progressum in scientiis (preesertim in parte
earum operativa), nisi Philosophia Naturalis ad scientias parti-
culares producta fuerit, et scientiz particulares rursus ad Natu-
ralem Philosophiam reducte. Hine enim fit, ut astronomia,
optica, musica, plurime artes mechanice, atque ipsa medicina,
atque (quod quis magis miretur) philosophia moralis et civilis,
et scientiz logice, nil fere habeant altitudinis in profundo ; sed
per superficiem et varietatem rerum tantum labantur: quia
postquam particulares ists scientiz dispertite ef constitute
fuerint, a Philosophia Naturali non amplius alantur. . . .
Itaque minime mirum est si scientiz non crescant, cum a radi-
cibus suis sint separate.” — ov. Org. I. 78, 79, 80.

POINTS OF OPPOSITION TO ANTIQUITY. 151

| forms, material qualities; and thus he denies

I everything that would render an interpretation of
~ox--anatural, teleological, idealistic, or, in a word,

;
{

7

|

abstract. We may say, to combine these several
oppositions in one single expression, that he em-
ployed his whole weight to counterbalance that
formal philosophy that had, down to his own time,
so vastly preponderated, whether we consider the

\ extent or the duration of its reign... Under.this-

formal philosophy, which he regards as his an-
tagonist, Bacon comprises Aristotelian Scholas-
ticism, Platonic Aristotelism, Pythagorean Pla-
tonism. In all these systems, that doctrine of
final causes, that is regarded by Bacon as an
*¢Tdolon Tribus,” predominates as the leading idea.
The creations of formal philosophy are so many
historical developments of this one fallacy. They
are the idols that in the field of philosophy take
possession of the human mind; that is to say,
they are, in the eyes of Bacon, “ Idola Theatri.” *

Such, accurately expressed, are the points of
opposition that give an historical character to the
Baconian philosophy. To theoretic it opposes
practical philosophy as an instrument of useful
cultivation; to metaphysics and theology, which
have hitherto constituted the basis of science, it

* The consideration of the “ Idola Theatri” occupies Apho-

risms 61—68 of Nov. Org. lib. I.
L4

152 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

opposes physics; to formal it opposes material
philosophy ; to common experience it opposes
scientific experience.

1. BACON’S ANTAGONISM TO ARISTOTLE.

All these points of opposition were, as Bacon
thought, concentrated in Aristotle, who, to his
time, had held a dictatorship in the region of
philosophy. Aristotle had ecanonised theory as
the highest aspiration of the mind; rendering us
similar to the gods. He had systematically ela-
borated metaphysics, and upon this foundation
had based his interpretation of nature. He was
the real scientific representative of formal philo-
sophy, and the creator of its logic; he regarded
physics from the teleological point of view, after
establishing that point of view metaphysically ;
he brought the whole formal philosophy of the
Greeks into a system, by which the middle ages
were governed. Lastly, in Bacon’s eyes, that un-
methodical and uncritical kind of experience that
had hitherto prevailed was to be laid to the charge
of Aristotle, for he brought induction into philo-
sophy without sifting it critically, or arranging it
in logical order. By the side of a fruitless logic
Aristotle had upheld an illogical experience.
What great end, then, could be attained by the
philosophy that followed him, provided as it

BACON AS AN ANTI-ARISTOTELIAN. 153

was with such inefficient weapons? Thus, in
Bacon’s eyes, all the “ Idola Theatri” that occupy
the field of science are combined under the name
of Aristotle. To this point, therefore, he directs
all the attacks which he intends for antiquity in
general. The name of Aristotle is, as it were,
the extremity of a rod that must conduct all the
lightnings darted by Bacon against the earlier phi-
losophy. That Bacon may not appear unjust to
Aristotle, we must consider the name of the
latter, when used by the former, as a nomen appe-
lativum rather than a nomen proprium. How
far he apprehended the veritable Aristotle we
shall not pause to inquire, for our inquiry here is
not what Aristotle really was, but what he ap-
peared in the eyes of Bacon, who attacked in him
the theorist, the metaphysician, the formalist, and
the empirist — making of himself an anti- Aristotle
incarnate.

To the Aristotelian “ Organon,” Bacon, in his
own “ Organum,” offers a double opposition. He
combats the Aristotelian logic with experience,
and the Aristotelian experience (which he con-
siders the same as the common) with methodical
experience. ‘To syllogism he opposes induction ;
to Aristotelian induction true induction. His
tactics in both cases are the same. He would
prove that both syllogism and Aristotelian expe-

154 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

rience are, with respect to physics, equally un-
practical and unfruitful.

SyLLOGISM

is unfruitful, inasmuch as it cannot discover any-
thing new, cannot find anything unknown, but
can only exhibit, arranged in a consequent order,
notions that are already familiar. It is a mere
form of thought, that presupposes a given mate-
rial to fill it up. But the aim of genuine science
is the discovery of a material, not the mere arrange-
ment of that which has already been given or
handed down. From the known, science would
infer the unknown. ‘Thus syllogism, which only
arranges what is known, is an useless instrument in
the hand of science; that is, of no assistance to her
in her investigations, and does not advance her
interests in the slightest degree. From syllogistic
logic no science can be derived, since, as Bacon
observes, it is of no service in the discovery of
scientific truth.* Of what does syllogism consist ?
Of judgments or premises. And of what do these
consist? Of words. But words are mere symbols
of notions that are in themselves obscure and

* “ Sicut scientiee que nunc habentur inutiles sunt ad inven-
tionem operum ; ita et logica que nunc habetur inutilis est ad
inventionem scientiarum.”— Nov. Org. I. 11.

USELESSNESS OF FORMAL LOGIC. 155

abstract representations of things, made and taken
upon trust without due investigation, and circu-
lated in the same fashion. Thus, if we reduce
syllogism to its ultimate elements, we find that it
rests upon obscure and uncertain notions.* These
are turned into current coin by Formal logic, and
as such are circulated. Thus, this kind of logie,
far from conducing to the investigation of truth,
rather serves to establish error; so that it is not
merely useless, but even injurious. Syllogistie
science lives on words alone; encourages not
action, but talking; rendering men not inventive,
but loquacious, and mere disputation leads to
nothing. The art of words does not promote the
“regnum hominis,” but merely the “ munus pro-
Sessorium.”

Experience proceeds differently from this kind
of logic, proving not by words, but by deeds;
demonstrating ad oculos, experimentalising instead
of talking. With the aid of an instrument, it

* “Syllogismus ex propositionibus constat, propositiones ex
verbis, verba notionum tessere sunt. Itaque si notiones ipsx
(id quod basis rei est) confuse sint et temere a rebus abs-
tractee, nihil in iis que superstruuntur est firmitudinis.” — Nov.
Org. I. 14.

T “ Logica que in usu est ad errores (qui in notionibus vul-
garibus fundantur) stabiliendos et figendos valet, potius quam
ad inquisitionem veritatis ; ut magis damnosa sit quam utilis.”
— Nov, Org. I, 12.

156 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

rectifies our sensuous perception, and fits it for the
observation of things. ‘“ We must fly to art,”
says Bacon, “and must look to demonstration that
is governed by art. As for syllogism, which is
regarded by Aristotle as an oracle, sentence may
be passed on it ina few words. It is, doubtless,
useful to the understanding, as a sort of helping
hand, in those sciences that are founded on human
opinions, as the moral and political, but it is
unequal and incompetent to the subtlety and
obscurity of natural things. Thus, induction
remains our last and only aid in the acquisition
of real knowledge. Nor do we, without cause,
rest our hopes upon it, since it is able to
collect laborious works and the faithful suffrages
of things, and present them to the intellect.”*
Therefore away with syllogism; let us have

* “ (Cogitavit) sequi igitur ut ad artem confugiendum, et de
demonstratione que per artem regitur, videndum sit. Atque
de syllogismo qui Aristoteli oraculi loco est, paucis sententiam
claudendam. Rem esse nimirum in doctrinis que in opinionibus
hominum posite sunt, veluti moralibus et politicis, utilem et
intellectui manum quandam auxiliarem ; rerum vero naturalium
subtilitati et obscuritati imparem et incompetentem. Restare
inductionem, tanquam ultimum et unicum rebus subsidium et
perfugium ; neque immerito in ea spes sitas esse, ut que opera
laboriosa et fida rerum suffragia colligere, et ad intellectum per-
ferre possit.”—Cogit. et Visa.

ARISTOTELIAN EXPERIENCE. 157

EXPERIENCE.

Not, however, Aristotelian experience, for this
is just as sterile as syllogism, and no less misses
the ultimate object of all scientific research. In a
natural state of things, logic ought to discover
truths, and experience invent works; the former
procuring for us new knowledge, the latter
aiding us to new inventions. But the Aris-
totelian logic contributes nothing ‘ad inventionem
scientiarum ;” the Aristotelian experience contri-
butes nothing “ad inventionem operum.” Both
are incapable of invention, and therefore both are
useless. The Aristotelian experience is sterile
from a double cause ; that is to say, it is either a
mere description involving an expanse of matter
without form (just as the syllogism was an empty
form without matter), or “asimple and childish
kind of induction, that proceeds by enumeration
alone, and therefore arrives not at necessary, but
at uncertain conclusions.”* Hence it does not
lead to any knowledge of laws, to any interpreta-
tion of nature, to any invention, but remains dry
and sterile. Or, on the other hand, this Aristo-

* “Formam ejusdem (inductionis) meditati sunt admodum
simplicem et plane puerilem que per enumerationem tantum
procedat, atque propterea precario non necessario concludat.”—
Cog. et Visa,

158 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

telian experience at once infers the most general
laws from the consideration of a few particular
cases, without regarding the negative instances, —
without extending its path by a careful com-
parison of various cases, or shortening it by the
discovery of prerogative instances. It does not
discover, but merely abstracts laws, and is
thus unmethodical and uncritical,—not investi-
gating, but anticipating nature. From single
facts to general laws it proceeds as if by flight,
not step by step. Its fault is an impatience of
delay, which, not allowing any pause to the work
of experience, forces it to fly upwards, instead of
climbing; so that it misses the goal that it is in
such a hurry to reach. It grasps immediately at
the highest laws, — determines the primary before
it has ascertained the intermediate causes,—
hoping by syllogistic art to supply the links
wanting in the chain of existence.* An expe-
rience of this kind can lead to no experiment
properly called,—to no invention; it is therefore
as sterile as the syllogism.

* The whole of the above passage is an expansion of the
following :—‘‘ More impatientes et compendia viarum undique
lustrantes, et quedam in certe ponere, circa que, tanquam
circa polos, disputationes verterentur, properantes, eam (induc-
tionem) tantum ad generalia scientiarum principia adhibuerunt,
media per syllogismorum derivationes expedire temere sperantes.”

— Cog. et Visa.—J. O.

INVENTIVE EXPERIENCE. 159

In the place of this kind of experience, Bacon
puts the inventive, which proceeds by another path.
“There are, and can be,” he says, “ only two
ways for the investigation and discovery of truth.
One flies from the senses and particulars to the
most general axioms, and from these principles,
and their infallible truth, determines and discovers
intermediate axioms. And this is the way now p
in use. The other constructs axioms from the #*
senses and particulars, by ascending continually
and gradually, so as to reach the most general
axioms last of all, This is the true way, but is
yet untried.”* The right way from the par-
ticular phenomena to the highest laws of
nature is by a series of steps, and this series
constitutes the characteristic difference between
the Baconian experience and that which had pre-
viously prevailed. “The human understanding
must not jump and fly from particulars to remote
and most general axioms (such as the so-called
principles of acts and things), and then, by the infal-

* “Due vie sunt, atque esse possunt, ad inquirendam et in-
veniendam yeritatem. Altera a sensu et particularibus advolat
ad axiomata maxime generalia, atque ex iis principiis eoramque
immota veritate judicat et invenit axiomata media ; atque heec
via in usu est: altera a sensu et particularibus excitat axiomata,
ascendendo continenter et gradatim, ut ultimo loco perveniatur
ad maxime generalia; que via vera est, sed intentata,” — Nov,
Org. I. 19.

160 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

lible truth of these, test and make out the inter-
mediate axioms. This, however, has hitherto been
done from the natural bent of the understanding,
which has, moreover, been trained and accustomed
to this course by the syllogistic form of demon-
stration. But we can then only hope well for
science, when the ascent shall be made by a true
scale, and successive steps, without gap or inter-
ruption, first from particulars to minor axioms,
then to the intermediate (one above the other),
and finally to the most general. For the lowest
axioms do not much differ from bare experience;
but those which are now deemed the highest and
most general are notional and abstract, with
nothing solid about them. But the intermediate
are those true, solid, and living axioms, upon
which depend the affairs and fortunes of mankind.
Hence we must not add wings, but rather lead and
weights to the human understanding, in order to
prevent all jumping and flying.”*

* “ Neque tamen permittendum est, ut intellectus a particulari-
bus ad axiomata remota et quasi generalissima (qualia sunt
principia, que vocant, artium et rerum) saliat et volet; et ad
eorum immotam veritatem axiomata media probet et expediat :
quod adhuc factum est, prono ad hoc impetu naturali intellectus,
atque etiam ad hoc ipsum, per demonstrationes qu fiunt per
syllogismum, jampridem edocto et assuefacto. Sed de scientiis
tum demum bene sperandum est, quando per scalam veram, et
per gradus continuos et non intermissos aut hiulcos, a parti-
cularibus ascendetur ad axiomata minora, et deinde ad media,

SYLLOGISM AND EXPERIENCE. 161

SYLLoGismM AND EXPpERIENce.

These two instruments :of the Aristotelian
philosophy stand, as Bacon remarks, in a reci-
procal relation; the one supporting, and acting
as a supplement to the other. Syllogistie art
requires the lower kind of experience, to give a
material upon which it may imprint its logical
form. Experience requires syllogism, to find
intermediate links between phenomena and uni-
versal laws. Without experience, syllogism would
be devoid of life and motion; without syllogistic
art, experience would be aphoristic, and unable
even to assume the appearance of systematic
order.

The mind that is desirous of invention has
nothing to expect from either. Its mode of
knowledge is logical experience, or inventive logic.
Logical experience is distinguished, as experience,
from formal logic, which has nothing to do with
experience ; and, as logic, from the ordinary expe-

alia aliis superiora, et postremo demum ad generalissima. Etet.im
axiomata infima non multum ab experientia nuda discrepant.
Suprema vero illa et generalissima (que habentur) notionalia
Sunt et abstracta, et nil habent solidi. At media sunt axiomata
illa vera et solida et viva, in quibus humane res et fortune sites
sunt. .... Itaque hominum intellectui non plume addenda,
sed plumbum potius et pondera; ut cohibeant omnem saltum
et volatum.”—Nov. Org. I. 104.

M

162 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

rience, in which there is nothing logical. “ We
must apply to ourselves,” says Bacon, “the joke
of him who said that wine-drinkers and water-
drinkers cannot think alike; especially as it hits
the point so well. Now other men, both ancient
and modern, have drunk in science, a crude liquor,
like water, which has either flowed spontaneously
out of the understanding, or has been drawn up
by dialectics, as by a wheel from a well. But
we drink and pledge others with a liquor made
from an infinite number of grapes, and those well
ripened, plucked, and collected in picked clusters,
then crushed in the winepress, and at last purified

and clarified in a vessel. Therefore it is not

wonderful that we do not agree with others.” *

* «Ttaque dicendum de nobis ipsis quod ille per jocum dixit,
presertim cum tam bene rem secet: fieri non potest ut idem
sentiant, qui aquam et qui vinum bibant. At ceteri homines,
tam veteres quam novi, liquorem biberunt crudum in scientiis,
tanquam aquam vel sponte ex intellectu manantem, vel per
dialecticam, tanquam per rotas ex puteo haustam. At nos
liquorem bibimus et propinamus ex infinitis confectam uvis,
iisque maturis et tempestivis, et per racemos quosdam collectis ac
decerptis, et subinde in torculari pressis, ac postremo in vase re-
purgatis et clarificatis. Itaque nil mirum si nobis cum aliis non
conveniat.”—Vov. Org. I. 123. By “ aquam sponte ex intellectu
manantem,” Bacon manifestly means syllogism; by “aquam
per rotas ex puteo, haustam,” that kind of experience that from
a few facts leaps at once to the most general axioms. In the
parallel passage of “ Cogitata et Visa,” he expresses the same
thought by the words, “ Industria quadam haustum (liquorem).”
—Author’s Note.

SYMPATHY WITH PLATO. 163

2. BACON’S OPPOSITION AND AFFINITY TO PLATO. — HIS
OPINION OF PLATO AND ARISTOTLE,

Within the limits of formal philosophy, to which
as a whole he is diametrically opposed, Bacon,
nevertheless, makes a remarkable distinction be-
tween Aristotle and Plato. Of the two, Plato
appears to him as belonging to the higher order
of mind, as the greater genius. The systems of
these philosophical chiefs of classical antiquity
are, indeed, both equally removed from a true
semblance of nature; the minds of both are
prepossessed by “ idols,” but those of Plato are
as poetical as those of Aristotle are sophistical.*
Little as Bacon participates in the errors of Plato,
they appear to him more amiable and natural
than those of the other. The imagination, when
it errs, is more readily pardoned than the under-
standing. Bacon’s philosophical views were far
removed from anything like poetry, but he had
a lively imagination, and a ready susceptibility
for the charms of poetry; and this side of his
character was attracted by the poetical Plato.
Indeed, this element of poetry in Bacon, which is
displayed not only in his preference for Plato, but
not unfrequently influences his style, and guides

* “ Platonem, tam prope ad poet, quam illum (Aristotelem),
ad sophiste partes accedere.”— Cogitata et Visa.

M 2

164 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

him in the choice of his examples, proves anew
the truth of the felicitous remark once made by
Humboldt on the subject of Columbus, that a
poetical imagination expresses itself in every great
specimen of human character.*

Bacon draws a distinction between Plato and
Aristotle, precisely the same as that which, by
many of the present day, is drawn between Schel-
ling and Hegel. In opposition to both of them,
he puts correct investigation, which, he asserts,
Plato has spoiled by imagination, Aristotle by
dialectics. The great example of sophistical phi-
losophy, according to Bacon, is Aristotle, who,
by his dialectics, spoiled natural science, inas-
much as he produced a world from categories.
Thus, Bacon reproaches Aristotle with a resolu-
tion of all reality into categories ; Plato, with a
conversion of reality into imaginary forms; the
one setting logical abstraction, the other poeti-
cal images, and both alike setting “idols” in the
place of things. Plato is mystical and poetical ;
Aristotle, dialectical and sophistical. Thus, in
his day, did Bacon judge the classical philosophers
of antiquity ; and, at the present time, the same
judgment is passed by almost everybody upon
Schelling and Hegel. We say this without par-
tiality; our only interest being in the fact that

* « Ansichten der Natur,” Vol. I. p. 256.

SCHELLING AND HEGEL. 165

we maintain, namely, that the judgment passed on
Schelling and Hegel, at the present day, is not
only similar, but literally the same as that formerly
pronounced by Bacon on Plato and Aristotle. It
is not without reason that many have called atten-
tion to the affinity between Hegel and Aristotle,
Schelling and Plato. We may even state a ratio: —
as the two German idealists are to our own age, so
are the two Greeks to the ageof Bacon. We are
not speaking here of a distance in point of time,
but of scientific magnitude. If nearly everybody
now judges of the two German philosophers, just
as Bacon judged of kindred spirits among the
ancient Greeks, we may regard this identity as an
important sign, showing how near the present age
has brought itself to the Baconian point of view.
It bears witness to an affinity between Bacon’s
mode of thought, and that now prevailing. We
think too highly of Bacon to construe this sign
unfavourably for the present age. Still, there is one
thing it does not prove ; namely, that the tendency
of our own times to pronounce a verdict against
the last systems of philosophy is at all new or
original. One thing it does not proclaim (although
this is presumed by many, who are ignorant of
history), namely, a new epoch! Much more is
this turn of thought to be regarded as a mere
emanation of that broad, intellectual flood that.
M3

166 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

originated with Bacon. On this account, do we
examine so carefully, and with such deep interest,
the great source itself; on this account do we
strive to exhibit to the present generation, as In a
clear mirror, the image of Bacon, which it has
imitated for the most part unconsciously, but, on
the whole, certainly not without cause.

Tue PLATonic IDEALISM.

Bacon rejects alike the Platonic ideas and the
Aristotelian categories ; both are to him abstract,
sterile forms, that explain nothing in nature.
But the Platonic philosophy regards its Ideas,
which, in truth, are merely idols, as the divine
originals of the things themselves. It deifies these
idols; and thus, to the realistic thinker, appears
an apotheosis of error, bribing the understanding
through the imagination. Such a thinker must
naturally regard it as a science of logical corrup-
tion, as a fantastic philosophy. “ For the human
understanding,” says Bacon, “is no less exposed
to the impressions of fancy, than to those of vulgar
notions. For the disputatious and sophistical
kind of philosophy ensnares the understanding ;
while that other fanciful, bombastic, and, as it
were, poetical sort, rather flatters it. There is in
man a certain ambition of the intellect, no less
than of the will, especially among lofty and

FANTASTIC PHILOSOPHY. 167

elevated minds. Of this better kind we have,
among the Greeks, a most conspicuous example
in Pythagoras, though combined with a coarser
and more burdensome superstition; but it appears
more subtle and dangerous in Plato and his school.
This kind of evil is found also in branches of other
systems, where it introduces abstract forms, final
and primary causes, frequently omitting the inter-
mediate, and the like. Against it, the greatest
caution must be used; for the apotheosis of error
is the greatest of evils, and the worship of folly
may be regarded as the pestilence of the intellect.
But in this vanity some of the moderns, with
consummate recklessness, have indulged to such
an extent, that they have endeavoured to found
a natural philosophy on the first book of Genesis,
the book of Job, and other sacred writings; thus
seeking the dead among the living. And this
folly is the more to be checked and restrained,
because not only fantastical philosophy, but here-
tical religion, results from such an absurd mix-
ture of the divine and human. It is, therefore,
most wholesome soberly to render unto faith only
the things that are faith’s.” *

* “Humanus enim intellectus non minus impressionibus phan-
tasize est obnoxius, quam impressionibus vulgarium notionum.
Pugnax enim genus philosophize et Sophisticum illaqueat intel-
lectum: at illud alterum phantasticum et tumidum, et quasi

M4

168 FRANCIS BACON € VERULAM.

- Aiming at the purity of science, Bacon would,
above all, preserve its foundation, physics, from
every heterogeneous admixture. ‘“ Natural phi-
losophy has not yet been found in a pure state,
but corrupt and infected :—in the school of Ari-
stotle, by logic; in the school of Plato, by natural
theology; in the second school of Plato (that of
Proclus and others), by mathematics, which ought
to limit natural philosophy, not to generate or
create it. But from a pure and unmixed natural
philosophy better results are to be hoped.” *

Poeticum, magis blanditur intellectui. Inest enim homini qux-
dam intellectus ambitio, non minor quam voluntatis; preesertim
in ingeniis altis et elevatis. Hujus autem generis exemplum
inter Grecos illucescit, preecipue in Pythagora, sed cum super-
stitione magis crassa et onerosa conjunctum ; at periculosius et
subtilius in Platone, atque ejus schola. Invenitur etiam hoc
genus mali in partibus philosophiarum reliquarum, introducendo
formas abstractas, et causas finales, et causas primas ; omittendo
seepissime medias, et hujusmodi. Huic autem rei summa adbi-
benda est cautio. Pessima enim res est errorum Apotheosis, et
pro peste intellectus habenda est, si vanis accedat veneratio.
Huic autem vanitati nonnulli ex modernis summa levitate ita in-
dulserunt, ut in primo capitulo Geneseos et in libro Job et aliis
scripturis sacris, philosophiam naturalem fundare conati sint ;
inter viva querentes mortua. 'Tantoque magis hxc vanitas in-
hibenda venit et coercenda, quia ex divinorum et humanorum
malesana admistione non solum educitur philosophia phantastica,
sed etiam religio heretica. Itaque salutare admodum est, si
mente sobria fidei tantum dentur que fidei sunt.”—Vov. Org. I. 65.

* «Naturalis Philosophia adhuc sincera non invenitur, sed
infecta et corrupta: in Aristotelis schola per logicam, in Platonis
schola per theologiam naturalem; in secunda schola Platonis,

lecpltcr tn r)e - Aether Wey ke Rue? nila

4?

SIMILARITY TO PLATONISM. 169

Still, notwithstanding this diametrical oppo-
sition of principles and tendencies, there is still a
philosophical point of contact to be found between

_ the greatest idealist of antiquity and the greatest
\realist of modern times.

caer

Tue PLatonic Metuop

is akin or homogeneous to the Baconian. In
much the same manner does Plato find his ideas;
Bacon, the laws of things. The Socratico-Pla-
tonic method derives the mental conception from
immediate representations; Bacon, from natural
phenomena, derives a law. In both cases the
course of reasoning is inductive, beginning with
particulars, and ascending to the universal. In
both cases the induction is of a kind that pro-
ceeds slowly and gradually (per gradus con-
tinuos) to the universal:— with Plato, to Ideas ;
with Bacon, to laws: with Plato, to the original ;
with Bacon, to the copy of nature: with Plato,
to the final; with Bacon, to the efficient causes
of things. And what is the chief point of all,
the course of induction is in both cases pursued

Procli et aliorum, per mathematicam ; que philosophiam natu-
ralem terminare, non generare aut procreare debet. At ex phi-
losophia naturali pura et impermista meliora speranda sunt,”—
Nov. Org. I. 96.

Sn ae eR CR RE

170 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

through negative instances. Following the ex-
ample of Socrates, Plato applies the test of a
negative instance to all definitions, so that these
are continually rectified and purified by con-
tradictory instances, which here are not natural
phenomena, but definitions or propositions. In
the “ Republic,” the idea of justice is under dis-
cussion, and it appears to Cephalus that the just
man should give to every one his own, and
should therefore return what he has borrowed,
when he is asked for it. “Is it then just,” asks
Socrates, “to return borrowed weapons, where
the lender is mad when he asks for them?”
Manifestly not. Here is the negative instance ;
it shows that the first definition of justice was too
broad, and therefore does not meet the point. What
Cephalus imagines to be just, is not so in every
case. To collect all the examples of the negative
instances to be found in Plato, it would be neces-
sary to copy out the whole of his dialogues. In
the same manner, Bacon uses the negative instance
as a test, to discover whether the conditions of
natural phenomena that present themselves are
essential or not. Plato makes experiments with
ideas, as Bacon with things. With both of them,
the mode of proof consists in so testing that
which is to be proved, as to ascertain whether, in
every respect, it will agree with their hypothesis;

THE PLATONIC INDUCTION. 171

in other words, whether it will endure the ordeal
of negative instances. Thus, both make experi-
ments; one logically, the other physically ; one
to discover the true idea among our notions,
the other to find out the true laws in nature.
They proceed by similar roads, viz., per veram
inductionem, to opposite goals. Bacon himself
perceived this affinity, and it made him prefer
Plato to Aristotle. ‘ An induction that is to be
useful for the discovery and demonstration of the
sciences and arts, should separate nature by proper
rejections and exclusions, and then, after a suf-
ficient number of negatives, come to an affirma-
tive conclusion. This has not yet been done, nor
even tried, except by Plato, who certainly makes
use of this form of induction to some extent, for
the purpose of sifting definitions and ideas.” *
The Platonic induction leads to a world of
ideas, which is formed by the way of continued
abstraction; the Baconian induction leads to a
copy of the real world, by the way of continued
experience. From Plato’s point of view the real

* “At inductio que ad inventionem et demonstrationem
scientiarum et artium erit utilis naturam separare debet, per re-
jectiones et exclusiones debitas; ac deinde, post negativas tot
quot sufficiunt, super affirmativas concludere ; quod adhue factum
non est, nec tentatum certe, nisi tantummodo a Platone, qui ad
excutiendas definitiones et ideas, hac certe forma inductionis
aliquatenus utitur.”— Nov. Org. L 105.

172 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

world itself appears a copy, of which philosophy
is to find the original. From the Baconian point
of view, on the contrary, the real world appears —
as the original, of which philosophy must make a
copy. The Platonic abstraction consists in the
analysis of ideas; the Baconian, in the analysis
of things,—an anatomical dissection of bodies, the
*‘dissectio nature,” the “anatomia corporum,”
which Bacon requires in lieu of the Platonic abs-
traction. “ For we are establishing in the human
intellect a true model of the world, such as it is
found to be, not such as any one’s reason may
have suggested ; but this cannot be effected with-
out performing a most diligent dissection and
anatomy of the world.” *

3. THE AFFINITY OF BACON TO DEMOCRITUS AND THE
ATOMISTS.

We now come to the last relation between
Bacon and the Greek philosophy, and here we
find an indubitable point of contact. Bacon
opposes Aristotle on every point, and with all his
might. He will have nothing in common with
him, deeming that his method is as useless and as

* « Etenim verum exemplar mundi in intellectu humano fun-
damus; quale invenitur, non quale cuipiam sua propria ratio
dictaverit. Hoc autem perfici non potest, nisi facta mundi dis-
sectione atque anatomia diligentissima.”—Vov. Org. I. 124.

AFFINITY TO THE ATOMISTS. 173

sterile as his doctrines. His affinity to Plato is
merely of the formal kind; he finds here his own
method, the ¢rue induction, but it is employed for
futile ends or useless devices. For the Platonic
ideas or imaginations have nothing in common
with human life, and therefore cannot have any
practical influence upon it.

However, there is one doctrine of antiquity
which has a material affinity to Bacon, namely,
Materialism itself, or, as the ancients called it,
the Physiology of the Pra-Socratic period, which
stands as the opposite pole to formal philosophy
generally. To the Atomistic philosophy of De-
mocritus and his disciples, sometimes involun-
tarily, sometimes intentionally, Bacon is inclined
above all other systems. ‘That earliest philoso-
phical age was devoted to a lively contemplation
of nature, to the matter of things themselves, not
to forms abstracted from them. The principles
here laid down for the foundation of things were
of a corporeal nature, and coincided with the
elements. Bacon’s dislike to formal philosophy
occasions and explains his inclination to Ma-
terialism. His opposition to Aristotle occasions
and explains his affinity to Democritus. Bacon
and Democritus form, as it were, two opposite
poles to that formal philosophy that governed
classical antiquity, and afterwards the scholastic

174 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

middle ages. Democritus is the pole beyond it,
Bacon the pole on this side. “It is better to
dissect nature than to abstract,” says Bacon,
“and this has been done by the school of Demo-
critus, which penetrated more deeply into nature
than the rest.”* Among all the Greek philoso-
phers Bacon distinguishes the Atomists as the
most sagacious, observing that they possessed and
propagated a sense for true natural science, and
were only obscured and, as it were, outshone by
the philosophy of Aristotle and Plato, after the
Genserics and Attilas—the barbarians of the
irruption — had annihilated the scientific sense of
the world altogether. For in the days of civilised
antiquity the influence of Democritus never ceased.
He and the whole age of Pra-Socratic philosophy
are opposed by Bacon to the authority of Aristotle.
The tendency of Aristotle to busy himself with
words, rather than with the living truth of things,
is best shown, according to Bacon, by a com-
parison of his philosophy with that of others,
who were in repute among the Greeks. “ For
the homoiomera of Anaxagoras, the atoms of Leu-
cippus and Democritus, the heaven and earth of
Parmenides, the discord and concord of [Kmpe-
docles, the resolution of bodies into the common

* +‘ Melius est naturam secare, quam abstrahere, id quod Demo-
criti schola fecit, quee magis penetravit in naturam, quam relique.”

DEMOCRITUS. 175

nature of fire, and their recondensation, as taught
by Heraclitus, have about them somewhat of
natural philosophy, and savour of the nature of
things, of experience, and of corporeal reality ;
while for the most part the physics of Aristotle
are nothing but logical terms, and are afterwards
treated in his metaphysics under a more imposing
name, and as if he were dealing rather with
things than with words.” *

Among all these natural philosophers of the
Greeks Bacon gives the preference to the Atomists,
with Democritus at their head. Their theory is
the most natural; it penetrates corporeal things
in the proper sense of the word, for it traces them
to their ultimate particles, and is therefore more
materialistic than any other. Democritus laid
down the correct principle that matter was eternal,
and that, far from being destitute of all shape and
form, it was determined from the beginning by
motive and forming powers; that matter and form

* “Habent enim Homoiomera Anaxagore, Atomi Leucippi
et Democriti, Calum et Terra Parmenidis, Lis et Amicitia
Empedoclis, Resolutio corporum in adiaphoram naturam ignis
et Replicatio eorundem ad densum Heracliti, aliquid ex philo-
sopho naturali, et rerum naturam et experientiam et corpora
sapiunt; ubi Aristotelis Physica nihil aliud quam dialectics
voces plerunque sonet; quam etiam in Metaphysicis sub solen-
niore nomine, et ut magis scilicet realis, non nominalis, re-
tractavit.”— lVov. Org. I. 63.

176 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

were absolutely inseparable, had never been
parted from each other in the nature of things,
and therefore were not to be separated, though
they might be distinguished in the interpretation
of nature. That formless matter, of which Plato,
Aristotle, and their disciples talk so much, is not
the matter of things, but only the matter of that
vague and obscure discourse which is the boast of
word-philosophy. The only fault of Democritus
‘consists in this, that he did not arrive at his
correct and irrefutable principles by a methodical
interpretation of nature, but anticipated them by
the mere operation of the unassisted intellect;
that is to say, he maintained them metaphysically,
instead of proving them physically, by the way of
experiment.* This fault of Democritus belongs to

* This is the reason why Bacon did not identify his philo-
sophy with that of the Atomists. He desired physical, not
metaphysical atoms. Physical atoms are corpuscles or particles,
i.e. the ultimate and smallest parts of body that we can perceive
and exhibit, The atoms, in the metaphysical or strict sense of
the word, are mere thoughts, or entia rationis (Gedankendinge),
that no investigator of nature has ever yet discovered. ‘This
was clearly perceived by Bacon, who therefore says that his
method will not lead to a theory of atoms, that presupposes a
vacuum, and an immutable matter (both of which are false), but
to real particles, such as are discovered to be. [“ Neque prop-
terea res deducetur ad Atomum, qui preesupponit vacuum et
materiam non fluxam (quorum utrumque falsum est), sed ad
particulas veras, quales inveniuntur.”— Nov. Org. Il. 8.] —
Author’s Note.

DISAGREEMENT WITH THE ATOMISTS. 177

the Greek philosophy in general, the character of
which is most distinctly imprinted on the Atomists.
Of all the ages of philosophy this earliest age of
Greek physiology was most akin to nature and
truth, at least so it appeared in the eyes of Bacon,
who regarded it as the only one engaged in the
serious pursuit of natural science. The follow-
ing ages, from Socrates down to Bacon himself,
corrupted natural philosophy, and thus brought
science in general into a state of ever-increasing
degeneracy. All genuine natural philosophy was |
spoiled and thrust back, first by the Platonic |
doctrine of ideas, which put abstract thoughts |
in the place of things; then, further, by the |
Aristotelian logic, which for both things and
thoughts substituted words; afterwards by the
moral philosophy of the Romans; and, last of all,
by that mixture of Aristotelian philosophy with
Christian theology, which brought barbarism and

the perversion of intellect to perfection. That |
earliest age, not yet vitiated by false philoso-
phy, nor much perplexed by idola theatri, had
alone the right instinct, and was alone directed
to the right purpose. To carry out this purpose
nothing was wanting but scientific means. Without
instruments, without method, these earliest na-
tural philosophers could not think conformably to
experience, or in a truly physical spirit. What
N

178 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

could they do but anticipate nature, when they
were unable to interpret her in a scientific manner ?
Their physics became metaphysics from the very
first. They were right in seeking for the prin-
ciple of things in the elements, in real natural
forces, but these were at once converted, in their
view, to general axioms. ‘They discovered their
principles rather by a divining glance than by
deep investigation, and, being without a secure
method of experience, were directed to the un-
assisted intellect. They had not a false method,
—they had no method at all. The intellect
left to itself cannot know anything, it can only
fabricate. Thus in Bacon’s eyes the oldest philo-
sophy seems, as far as its subject-matter is con-
cerned, to be akin to nature and truth, but, with
respect to its form, to belong more to imagination
than to science. Nature and truth are to be
found in it, not as objects of clear knowledge
based upon experience, but as a myth projected
by the poetical intellect. Here Bacon discovers
the affinity between Greek physiology and mytho-
logy, and here we have the origin of his views
respecting the “ Wisdom of the Ancients.” Physi-
ology appears to him as poetry, which indeed
it was in the earliest times, and mythology as
wisdom in the garb of poetical narrative, that is
to say, as a fable or allegory of nature and her

ALLEGORICAL INTERPRETATION. 179

powers, — of men and their manners; for what
can poetry do but copy reality? In this, there-
fore, the oldest poetry and the oldest wisdom
agree with each other, that they stand nearest
the simple truth, from which they have not been
seduced by a false culture, and express, by
imagery, the. sense of nature, with which they
are inspired. Thus Bacon could only regard the
myths of antiquity as allegories, and attempted
an allegorical explanation of them in his book
on the “* Wisdom of the Ancients.” And at this
point of view he arrived, it seems, by two paths.
By one he finds in the earliest age scientific
myths, — fables that appear as important theories,
and, when stripped of their poetical veil, are
converted into physiological propositions, that
more accord with his own views than all the
systems of a later period. But if, in some cases,
the myths have evidently an allegorical signifi-
cance, why not in many other cases also? If
there are scientific why not also moral and political
myths? Thus could Bacon reason, and thus, in
accordance with such reasoning, could he attempt
to apply the allegorical mode of interpretation,
that in some cases seemed to be imperatively en-
joined, by the nature of things, to many similar
cases. Nay, it is not enough to say that he could

do this. After the discovery that he thought he
N 2

180 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

had made in reviewing the earliest age of the
philosophy that had preceded him, he could not
do otherwise than prefer the allegoric interpreta-
tion of ancient poetry to every other. He was
further impelled in this direction by the view
which he took of poetry itself; and here we have
the other path, to which we have already alluded.
The one path leads by induction from a historical
fact, which Bacon generalises by applying it to
many cases; the other leads by deduction from a
general theory to an experiment, which is to
confirm the presupposed theory, and exemplify
it in a series of instances. Both meet at one
point, and this point is Bacon’s “ Wisdom of the
Ancients.” The shorter of the two paths, — the
one which leads to the goal in a straight line, —
is the second, which is the immediate result of
Bacon’s theory of poetry.

181

CHAP. VII.

THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY IN ITS RELATION TO POETRY.

WHILE critically reviewing the preceding systems
of philosophy, Bacon at last finds himself in the
presence of poetry. The only point of contact
between his own philosophy and the past is in
that earliest age, when science and poetry were
still identical. The Baconian mind is most remote
from the Aristotelian scholasticism ; in a certain
sense it approaches the Platonic, and most of all
it accords with the atomistic view of Democritus.
Here the Baconian philosophy, and that which
preceded it, begin to diverge. They converge as
they approach mythology, the poetical age of
science, when philosophy and poetry still held
intercourse with each other. Hence the interest
which Bacon takes in the myths of antiquity.
This interest has, in the Baconian philosophy itself,
a deeper foundation than is commonly supposed.
It is supported by the affinity which Bacon dis-
covers between himself and the philosophy of the
pre-Socratic age. His interpretation of the

ancient myths, and his relation to this kind of
N 3

182 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

poetry, may partly, at least, be explained by the
position taken by the Baconian with reference to
the earlier philosophy ; for this interpretation is,
partly, at least, a translation of mythology into
Baconian physiology, and is therefore one of the ex-
ponents by which Bacon’s relation to his predeces-
sors is made clear to us. But his interpretation of
the myths may also be immediately deduced from
Bacon’s view of poetry in general; and we are
the more justified in making this deduction, inas-
much as it was made by Bacon himself. His
poetical principles preceded and foreshadowed his
interpretation of the myths.

I. Toe BaconraAn POETICS.

The purpose of the Baconian philosophy is to
direct the theoretical to the practical mind. The
common aim of both should be such a cultivation
of man, as will generally be useful in increasing
his dominion and promoting his happiness. The
practical mind, by means of invention, should
remodel the world; the theoretic, conformably to
experience, should copy it.* What can this
copying of the world be but a description and

* In the original there is an antithesis between “ umbilden”
and “ abbilden,” which vanishes in translation. — J QO.

OFFICE OF POETRY. 183

interpretation? The description of the world is
the history of nature and humanity. The inter-
pretation of the world is science, by which the
information given by history is duly apprehended.
History belongs to the memory, which collects
and preserves our experiences; science to reason,
which reflects on these experiences, and reduces
them to general laws. But, besides memory and
reason, the theoretic mind has another faculty, —
imagination. Hence there is a possibility of a
copy of the world made by the imagination, less
accurate in detail than the copy in the memory;
less regulated by law than the copy in the reason;
and distinguished from them both by the circum-
stance that it is not found, but invented. Percep-
tion and reason should be faithful mirrors, which
reflect things unaltered. Imagination, on the
other hand, is a magic glass that alters while it
reflects. The imaginary copy of the world which
it invents is poetry, which, in the realm of the
theoretic mind, holds the middle province between
history and science.

In its operation poetry is akin to the practical
mind, for it is inventive; but its end is only
theoretical, as it consists in a mere representation
of the world. In the mode of representation

poetry differs from both science and history ; for
nN 4

184 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

these must represent the world as it is, whereas
poetry may represent it such as the human heart
would desire it to be; these bring the human mind
to the level of external things; poetry brings
the things to the level of the mind. Therefore
poetry was ever thought to have some participa-
tion of divineness, because it doth raise and erect
the mind, by submitting the shows of things to
the desires of the mind, whereas reason doth
buckle and bow the mind unto the nature of
things.”* What then is poetry from the
Baconian point of view? <A copy of the world,
not only in, but after our own mind; a copy of
the world, exhibited among the idols of the ima-
gination. Here, then, we have poetry as a mere
mirror of the worid, not as a mirror of the human
soul; as a mere copy of history, not as a copy of
our own hearts. In other words, lyrical poetry
is not recognised by Bacon. This follows as a
necessary consequence from his point of view;
according to which, the theoretic mind in general
merely copies the world, while the particular
copy that exists in poetry is of the imaginary
sort. Bacon himself says: “ We exclude satires,
elegies, epigrams, odes, and the like, from our dis-
course, and class them with philosophy and the

* “Advancement of Learning,” Book II. Compare “ De
Augment.” II, 13, where “ history” is added to “reason.” — J. O,

PREDILECTION FOR ALLEGORY. 185

arts of oratory.”* Here, then, is the peculiar
limit of the Baconian theory of poetry ; it denies
lyrical poetry, and is, indeed, unable to explain it.
Thus it not only overlooks a whole mass of poetry
that certainly exists, by whatever name it may
be called, but what is more, it overlooks the in-
exhaustible source of all poetry whatever, —all
that renders the human imagination inventive,
and gives it a poetical turn. Lyrical poetry is
the expression of that which inspires the imagina-
tion, and thus makes it capable and desirous of
poetry, -——the expression of that which is the con-
dition precedent, and the stimulus of poetical and
artistic activity in general. There is no artistic
creation without imagination; there is no creative
imagination without a deep internal emotion, and
what the heartf suffers from this emotion is
revealed by lyrical poetry. He who so explains
poetry as to exclude the lyrical kind, conceives
poetry and art in general without creative imagi-
nation or internal emotion (Gemuthsbewegung),
and therefore naturally retains the mere prose of
both. This will appear plainly enough in the
case of Bacon, whose views of poetry are far

* “Satiras et Elegias et Epigrammata et Odas et hujusmodi
ab instituto sermone removemus, atque ad philosophiam et artes
orationis rejicimus.”— De Augment. IL. 13.

} The original word is the untranslatable * Gemiith.”— J, O,

186 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

more prosaic than he is himself. He begins by
classing the essentially ultra-poetical under rhe-
toric, —that is to say, prose; and he winds up by
ranking the essentially prosaic, that is to say,
allegorical poetry, as the highest order of the
poetical. His view of poetry is the exact con-
verse of the truth. Where it derives everything
from its primary and natural source, he does not
recognise it at all; where it is just on the point
of turning into prose, but has not quite thrown
aside the veil, it appears to him at the very
summit of its power and dignity. But what is
left in poetry if the lyrical kind is excluded?
Nothing but a copy of history, in which events
are exhibited in the narrative form, as belonging
to the past; in the dramatic form, as actions of
the present time; in the allegoric form, as if
pregnant with significance. The poetical copy of
history is either narrative, dramatic, or parabolic.
Of epic poetry, Bacon says, it is a “ mere imita-
tion of history,” of dramatic (or representative*),
that it is “a visible history,—an imitation of
actions as if they were present; the parabolic is
«a history with a type, presenting the intelligible
to the senses.”

* “Dramatic” is the word used in “De Aug.;” ‘ Repre-
sentative” the word in the “ Advancement.” Compare De
Aug. II. 13.— J. O.

PREDILECTION FOR ALLEGORY. 187

Epic poetry borders on history, parabolic
poetry on science. The former exhibits history,
and presupposes tradition; the latter interprets
history, and seeks explanation. Since the whole
purpose of Bacon is to convert history (or the
description of the world) into science (or the
interpretation of the world), it may easily be
understood why, among all the kinds of poetry,
that is most attractive to him which stands
nearest to science. The parabolic kind is, with
him, the most important; “it stands pre-eminent
above the rest.” It rivets the imagination by its
images, and the significance of these incites the
understanding. Thus it forms, as it were, the
introduction, the preparatory school, the first,
child-like, fanciful expression of science, — and its
didactic value is, in Bacon’s eyes, its poetical value
also. It is not for the sake of art, but for the
sake of science, that the importance of allegorical
poetry is thus magnified. This kind of poetry
appears more poetical than the rest, inasmuch as
it is more useful and more serviceable to science.
It converts history into an allegory or type, either
to veil mysteries, or to give a sensible form to
truths. In the former ease it is mystical, in the
latter didactic. Mystical symbolism is subser-
vient to religion, didactic to science. The sacred
mysteries of religion are veiled by symbols from

188 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

the eyes of the multitude, while the truths of
nature are, by the very same means, rendered
comprehensible and accessible to all. Menenius
Agrippa, by his fable, convinced the Roman
people of the justice of political distinctions, and
in a similar spirit science approached mankind
in the earliest ages: “ For when the devices and
conclusions of human reason (even those that are
now trite and common) were new and unfamiliar,
their subtilty surpassed the capacity of the hu-
man mind, unless they were brought nearer to
the senses by images and examples of this kind.
Hence, in the early ages, fables of all sorts, para-
bles, enigmas, and similes everywhere abounded.
Hence the symbols of Pythagoras, the enigmas
of the Sphinx, the fables of A®sop, and the like.
Even the apophthegms of the ancient wise were
often expressed in the form of similitudes. As
hieroglyphics were more ancient than letters, so
were parables more ancient than arguments.
Even to the present day, their force is (as it
always was) pre-eminent, since no argument can
be so perspicuous, nor can any example, however
true, be equally apt.”*

* “Cum enim rationis humane inventa et conclusiones (etiam
es que nunc trite et vulgate sunt) tune temporis nove et
insuete essent, vix illam subtilitatem capiebant ingenia humana,
nisi propius es ad sensum per hujusmodi simulachra et exempla.

INTERPRETATION OF ANCIENT MYTHS. 189

This is the point of view from which Bacon
understands the fables of antiquity. These stories
of gods and wonders are copies of the world (of
nature, and of man), executed by the imagination.
But they are not natural copies. What, then, can
they be but copies with a special signification ?
They are neither epic nor dramatic; what, then,
can they be but parabolic? They are not so much
copies as symbols * of the world, which were re-
quired by the earliest philosophy to give its truths
a sensible form. It is to the interest of science
to explain the sense, which these fables express
by images —as it were, by hieroglyphics. This
interpretation of myths, which can only be al-
legorical, is reckoned by Bacon among the sci-
entific problems yet to be solved; and he himself
attempts a solution by way of example. “ Inas-
much as the attempts that have been made to the
present time to interpret these parables (made as
they have been by men unskilled, and without

deducerentur. Quare omnia apud illos fabularum omnigenarum
et parabolarum et xnigmatum et similitudinum plena fuerunt.
Hine tessere Pythagore, senigmata Sphingis, sopi fabule, et
similia. Quinetiam apophthegmata veterum Sapientum fere per
similitudines rem demonstrabant. .. . . Denique ut hierogly-
phica literis, ita parabole argumentis erant antiquiores, Atque
hodie etiam, et semper, eximius est et fuit parabolarum vigor ;
cum nec argumenta tam perspicua nec vera exempla tam apta
esse possint.”— De Aug. II. 13.
* “ Weniger Abbilder als Sinnbilder.”—_J Ox

190 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM..

more than common-place learning,) are by no
means satisfactory to us, it appears that a philo-
sophy, according to the ancient parables, is to be
classed among desiderata. Of such a work we
will add an example or two; not, perhaps, because
the matter is of great moment, but that we may
adhere consistently to the principle we have laid
down, which is to this effect, that whenever we
class any work among the desiderata (and our
meaning might otherwise be somewhat obscure),
we shall invariably give precepts or proper ex-
amples for preparing the work desired, lest any
one may think that we have merely taken a super-
ficial glance at such objects, and that, like augurs,
we have measured regions in our mind, without
learning by what road to enter them. That any
thing else is wanting, with respect to poetry, we
do not find.” *

* “Cum vero que circa harum parabolarum interpretationem
adhuc tentata sint, per homines scilicet imperitos nec ultra locos
communes doctos, nobis nullo modo satisfaciant ; Philosophiam
secundum Parabolas Antiquas inter Desiderata referre visum est.
Ejus autem operis exemplum unum aut alterum subjungemus.
Non quod res sit fortasse tanti, sed ut institutum nostrum serve-
mus. Id hujusmodi est, ut de operibus illis que inter Desiderata
ponimus (si quid sit paulo obscurius) perpetuo aut preecepta ad
opus illud instruendum, aut exempla proponamus; ne quis forte
existimet levem aliquam tantum notionem de illis mentem nos-
tram perstrinxisse, nosque regiones sicut augures animo tantum
metiri, neque eas ingrediendi vias nosse. Aliam aliquam partem
in Poési desiderari non invenimus.”— De Aug. II. 13,

INTERPRETATION OF ANCIENT MYTHS, 191

Thus, the poetics of Bacon lead directly to his
work “ On the Wisdom of the Ancients.” Here,
by a series of examples, the solution of the pro-
blem is prefigured. Towards this solution, Bacon’s
poetics furnish not only precepts, but also illus-
trative cases, that are also to be found in the
treatise “ On the Wisdom of the Ancients.” The
myths of Pan, Perseus, and Dionysus here serve
him as so many prerogative instances. In the
first, we have a specimen of a Cosmic or physical
truth; in the second, of a political truth; in the
third, of a moral truth, —all expressed in symbols.

If. Tue Baconran INTERPRETATION OF THE ANCIENT
Myrus.

THE FABLE OF EROS,

What Bacon terms “ philosophy according to the
ancient parables,” signifies the resolution of myths
into philosophemes, of poetry into “wisdom,” of
sensible images into pure thought. An at tempt of
the sort was made by Bacon in a very remarkable
treatise, which forms, as it were, the transition
from his Democritic views to that interpretation
of myths, by which he connects an antique fiction
with his own physiological principles. If his theory
of poetry allowed of no interpretation of myths but
the allegorical, nothing could be more opportune to

192 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

his purpose than the simultaneous discovery of the
same myth in the mouths both of ancient poets and
philosophers, — the discovery that both employed
the same symbol for a like end. Now there was
no myth that more riveted his attention than that
which was connected with natural philosophy, and
was based on cosmogonic theories ; and among all
cosmogonic theories there was none that to him
appeared more correct than the atomic doctrine
of Democritus, — that system of physiology that
laid eternal matter, with its operative and forming
forces, at the foundation of all natural pheno-
mena. Conformably to this theory, Bacon endea-
voured to solve the symbol, in which poets and
philosophers had explained and embodied the origin
of the world. This is the fable of Eros, not the
son of Aphrodite, but the oldest of the gods, the
fashioner of the world, of whom some say that he
was without origin or parent (sine parente, sine
causa), others that he was the offspring of Night
and Chaos. This Eros, with his attributes, is to
Bacon the symbol of that original matter, with its
forces, which to him was the truest of all ancient
hypotheses. This theme is the subject of Bacon’s
treatise On the Principles and Origins of Things,
according to the fables of Cupid and Heaven; or
the philosophy of Parmenides, Telesius, and more
particularly of Democritus, treated in the fable of

INTERPRETATION OF ANCIENT MYTHS. 193

Cupid.” * To this interpretation Bacon seems to
have attached the greatest value. He repeats it
as often as he can. In his treatise on the “ Wis-
dom of the Ancients,” it returns again, under the
heads, “Ccelum, or beginnings,” and “ Cupid, or
an atom.”

Throughout all the thirty-one instances with
which Bacon makes his experiments in the “Wis-
dom of the Ancients,” we are less interested in
the interpretation itself than in the interpreter’s
point of view; and in the latter only because, on
the one hand, it shows the relation of the Baconian
philosophy to antiquity, and, on the other, it ex-
hibits to us a very striking peculiarity of the
Baconian mind. Bacon presupposes that the
myths are parables, without in the least troubling
himself about their history, without investigating
their origin, or their popular and religious ele-
ments, without distinguishing their earlier from
their later forms, their epic from their allegorical
side. Parables are equations, of which one mem-
ber is given, and the other is to be discovered.
What is given is the image, what is to be dis-
covered is the sense. Bacon would convert
myths, which he regards as parables, into similes ;

* “De principiis atque originibus secundum fabulas Cupidinis
et Ceeli sive Parmenidis et Telesii, et precipue Democriti philo-
sophia, tractata in fabula de Cupidine.”

oO

194 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

and therefore he writes at the head of each solution
the equation * which is its subject. The legends
which follow each other without critical order are
to him so many riddles, which he solves with inven-
tive tact, but for the most part in the most arbitrary
manner. As the fictions of antiquity are only
equal to themselves, and do not require a second
member, the discovery of the latter is the mere sport
of Bacon’s unfettered imagination. His treatment
of myths is like A‘sop’s treatment of animals; he
puts into them the truth that he means them to
signify, so that he alone is, in this case, the alle-
gorical poet. He isno more an interpreter of the
myths than sop is a zoologist.

Nevertheless, the manner in which Bacon plays
with the myths, while he seriously purposes to
explain them, is, in many respects, highly charac-
teristic. We see here as plainly as possible how
inappropriate the Baconian mode of thought be-
comes when applied to the poetry of antiquity,
or, indeed, to history in general; we see how
small is its ability to apprehend the peculiar and
original elements in historical processes, while it
endeavours, with so much zeal and circumspection,
to explain natural processes in accordance with
their own objective properties, apart from all

* Dr, Fischer supposes the sign of equality substituted for the
“or” of Bacon’s titles, thus :—‘“ Proteus = matter.”—J.O.

FABLE OF PAN. 195

human analogies. Moreover, Bacon’s inclination
and talent for the discovery of analogies nowhere
appears more unfettered and arbitrary than here,
where he is without that serviceable polar-star on
which his spirit of combination could rely in the
region of nature. His interpretation of the myths,
on which he wastes so much profundity, with as
much recklessness, is a striking example of those
fallacious analogies, against which he himself has
warned us in his “Organum.” One example will
serve us in the place of many. He regards the
god Pan as the symbol of nature, who is made to
embody herself in this image, just as she appears
to him. With this intention must antiquity, as
he thinks, have devised the myth of this deity.
Pan represents the aggregate of earthly things,
which are doomed to be transient, and to which
a definite period of duration is assigned by nature;
and therefore the Parce are his sisters. The
horns of Pan are pointed upwards; and, in the
same manner, nature ascends from individuals to
species, and from species to genera, after the
fashion of a pyramid. The horns, in which the
pyramidal form is retained, reach to the sky; thus
the highest generic ideas lead from physics to
metaphysics, and speculative theology. The body
of Pan is covered with hair, symbolising the rays

of light that emanate from shining bodies, and is,
02

196 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

moreover, composed of the human and the brute
forms, to correspond to that transition from a lower
to a higher grade,—to that combination that every-
where appears in nature. The goat’s feet of Pan
denote the upward tendency of terrestrial bodies ;
the pipe symbolises the harmony of the world;
the seven reeds signify the seven planets; the
crooked staff represents the “ circular” operations
of Providence; lastly, Echo, who is married to
Pan, is a symbol of science, which should be the
echo and copy of the world.

In this spirit does Bacon interpret the myths
of antiquity. His explanations are travesties, in
which the comic intention is wanting, and are
therefore all the more glaring parodies of serious
interpretation. Considered with respect to the
myths, they are so utterly worthless, that no one
could desire a serious refutation of them; but so
far as they throw a light on Bacon himself, they
are important. It is their importance in this latter
respect that we alone have to demonstrate. We
have to show our readers how, by the path of his own
philosophy, Bacon arrived at his peculiar interpre-
tation of the ancient myths; for this was by no
means, aS many suppose, and, indeed, as every
one must think at the first glance, — a mere idle
pastime.

There are, of course, here and there, a few

FABLE OF NARCISSUS. 197

instances of happy and judicious interpretation.
Some myths are imprinted with characters proper
to the human species, and therefore rivet our
attention as types of mankind, as if they were
mirrors of our own dispositions. Thus Prome-
theus has become the involuntary type of a mind
that strives upwards, confident and rejoicing in its
own independent strength; and in this type have
Bacon and Géthe seen themselves prefigured.
Bacon sees in the mythical Titans the inventive
mind of man, that makes nature subservient to its
own ends, establishes the dominion of man over
the world, and exalts human power to an un-
limited degree, by setting it up against the gods,

As Bacon sees in Prometheus the type of the
aspiring mind, rendered powerful by invention,
so does Narcissus appear to him the type of
human self-love. He makes use of the fiction,
that by means of its several features he may
describe this quality; and we must admit that,
much as Bacon distorts the poet’s details, and
little as his interpretation accords with the cha-
racter of the mythus, it proves that he himself
had a subtle knowledge of human nature. He
has missed the poet’s meaning, but he has so
happily characterised self-love that we cite his
description in his own words : —

“ They say that Narcissus was exceeding fair
0 3

198 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

and beautiful, but wonderful proud and disdain-
ful; wherefore, despising all others in respect of
himself, he leads a solitary life in the woods and
chases with a few followers, to whom he alone
was all in all; amongst the rest there follows him
the nymph Echo. During his course of life it
fatally so chanced that he came toa clear foun-
tain, upon the brink whereof he lay down to
repose himself in the heat of the day; and having
espied the shadow of his own face in the water,
was so besotted and ravished with the contem-
plation and admiration thereof, that he by no
means possibly could be drawn from beholding
his image in this glass; insomuch that by con-
tinual gazing thereupon he pined away to nothing,
and was at last turned into a flower of his own
name, which appears in the beginning of the
spring, and is sacred to the infernal powers,
Pluto, Proserpine, and the Furies. This fable
seems to show the dispositions and fortunes of
those who, in respect of their beauty or other
gift wherewith they are adorned and graced by
nature without the help of industry, are so far
besotted in themselves as that they prove the
cause of their own destruction. For it is the
property of men infected with this humour not
to come much abroad or to be conversant in civil
affairs; specially seeing those that are in public

FABLE OF NARCISSUS. 199

places must of necessity encounter with many
contempts and scorns which may much deject
and trouble their minds; and therefore they lead
for the most part a solitary, private, and obscure
life, attended on with a few followers, and those
such as will adore and admire them, like an echo,
flatter them in all their sayings, and applaud
them in all their words; so that, being by this
custom seduced and puffed up, and, as it were,
stupified with the admiration of themselves, they
are possessed with so strange a sloth and idleness
that they grow in a manner benumbed and
defective of all vigour and alacrity. Elegantly
doth this flower, appearing in the beginning of
the spring, represent the likeness of these men’s
dispositions, who in their youth do flourish and
wax famous; but, being come to ripeness of
years, they deceive and frustrate the good hope
that is conceived of them. Neither is it imper-
tinent that this flower is said to be consecrated to
the infernal deities, because men of this disposition
become unprofitable to all human things, For
whatever produceth no fruit of itself, but passeth
and vanisheth as if it had never been, like the
way of a ship in the sea, that the ancients were
wont to dedicate to the ghosts and powers
below.” *

* “ Wisdom of the Ancients. Narcissus or Self-love,”
o 4

200 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

It may be seen from this example, which we
have purposely selected, how recklessly Bacon
proceeds with the different features of the fable-
His Narcissus is a different person from the
Narcissus of Ovid, and the chief poetical trait of
the whole story is precisely the one that, Bacon
has most perverted. In the myth Narcissus de-
spises Echo, who pursues him; in Bacon’s inter-
pretation he seeks Echo, as the only person
whose society he can endure. Of the devoted
nymph Bacon makes a parasite, and of Narcissus
a generally human type, which he delineates with
masterly success.

Ill Greek AND Roman ANTIQUITY.

BACON AND SHAKSPEARE.

For the historical and religious foundation of
mythology Bacon has neither sense nor standard.
He takes the myths as airy creations of an
arbitrary imagination, as poetical vehicles for
instruction, which he explains and modifies after
the form of his own mind. But mythology
remains the foundation of antiquity ; andas Bacon
is not aware of this fact he is equally unable to
judge and understand the particular world that
rests upon that foundation. He judges of anti-
quity as a critical spectator with an uncongenial
mind. He was without sense for the historical

WANT OF SENSE FOR ANTIQUITY. 201

peculiarity of antiquity, he was wanting in that
sympathetic appreciation of the antique, which
here, if anywhere, is requisite for a thorough know-
ledge. Throughout the whole of that “ enlighten-
ment” (Aufhlérung*) which owes its origin to
Bacon, this deficiency continues. In the German
“enlightenment” there was the same deficiency,
but it was supplied by Winckelmann and his suc-
cessors. On the English and French side, on the
other hand, the void has never been filled up,
and it seems as if the ruling mind of these nations
lacks the foundation which is necessary for such
a purpose, and cannot be acquired, much less
compensated by any empirical knowledge. This
foundation rests upon an affinity to the antique
which distinguishes the German from the other
intellectual nations of the modern world, and
perhaps serves as a compensation for so many
defects. We are here speaking of Greek an-
tiquity, which Bacon could not distinguish from
the Roman. Nevertheless the distinction is so

* Although the word “ Aufklairung” really means the same as
the English “enlightenment,” it is used by all German authors in
a manner that appears harsh in translation. It generally signifies
a triumph of the intellect over prejudice and superstition, and is
sometimes almost identical with the English “ free-thinking.”
The 18th century (before the French revolution) is especially the
age of “ Aufklirung,” and hence, when used by certain critics,

the word conveys censure rather than praise. Here it signifies
the series of “ enlightened ” persons.—J. O.

202 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

great that the two kinds of antiquity should
scarcely be called by a common name. Classical
antiquity, then, in a specific sense, is the Greek
upon a Homeric basis. Bacon, on the other hand,
consistently with the spirit of his nation and his
age, only saw Greek antiquity through the
medium of the Roman. In his own manner of
thought and feeling there was something kindred
to the Roman mind, something that held the same
relation to the Greek mind that prose does to
poetry. As the mythological fictions of the
Greeks appeared to the Roman intellect, so, or
- nearly so, did they appear to that of Bacon. The
Roman explained the ancient fictions in that
allegorical manner that came into vogue among
the later philosophers after Aristotle, especially
the Stoics, and was first established by Chry-
sippus. These later philosophers were already
in a state of transition from the Greek to the
Roman world. Notwithstanding the endeavours
of Bacon, in his preface to the “ Wisdom of the
Ancients,” to repudiate the Stoics, more especially
Chrysippus, he has no right whatever to regard
their mode of interpreting myths as more vain
and arbitrary than his own. The whole age in
which he lived only knew the Greek antiquity
in the spirit of the Roman, with which the national
mind of the English in general (as a consequence

BACON AND THE ROMANS. 203

of their position in the world), and the Baconian
thought in particular, both sympathised. The
affinity between the Roman and Baconian mind
consists in the preponderance of that prac-
tical sense which considers everything in re-
ference to man’s utility, and the chief and
ultimate object of which is the extension of
human dominion. This parallel may be pur-
sued through several points. The Romans aim
at dominion over nations, Bacon at dominion over
nature. Both employ invention as the means to
this end. With the Romans invention is military,
with Bacon it is physical; and the victorious wars
in the one case correspond to the victorious
experiments in the other. That their wars may
have a secure foundation*, the Romans devise
civic laws, by which internal relations are esta-
blished and regulated. To obtain a firm basis for
his experiments, Bacon seeks natural laws, which
determine the internal conditions on which the
success of the experiments depends. Both frame
their laws under the guidance of experience, one
in the interest of politics, the other in that of
natural science. Practical ends determine the
direction both of the Roman and Baconian mind,
and produce in both a certain affinity of thought.

* Literally, “ Hintergrund” (background).—J,. O,

204 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM. ©

In accordance with that view of practical utility,
which was a result of their national and political
aims, the Romans appropriated to themselves the
whole world of Grecian gods, giving it a civic
position, and driving imagination out of it.
Thus, the Roman mind was naturally inclined to
that allegorical interpretation of myths, by which
a naive fiction is made an affair of the reflective
understanding, and is thus converted from a free
creation of the fancy into an expedient devised
for some purpose, didactic or otherwise. An
allegorical interpretation of poetry is not possible
at all, except on the supposition of the question :
“What is the intention of the poem? what
purpose does it serve?” To this question we
have a conceivable answer in allegorical inter-
pretation, —an answer that is just as prosaic, and
as much opposed to the spirit of poetry, as the
question itself. To the artist who employs
them, allegories are only means, not ends,—
never objects, but mere instruments, which he
only uses when he cannot express his object
without their aid. Allegory in poetry, as in art
generally, is an expedient that proves a defect
either in the natural means of the art itself, or in
those of the artist. Poetry cannot be interpreted
allegorically, until it is itself regarded as an alle-
gory; that is to say, not as an end, but as the

“BACON AND SHAKSPEARE. 205

means toanend. This was the Roman manner
of apprehending the creations of Greek imagina-
tion, and the Baconian manner agreed with it.
The same affinity for the Roman mind, and
the same want of sympathy with the Greek, we
again find in Bacon’s greatest contemporary,
whose imagination took as broad and compre-
hensive a view as Bacon’s intellect. Indeed,
how could a Bacon attain that position with
respect to Greek poetry that was unattainable
by the mighty imagination of a Shakspeare?
For in Shakspeare, at any rate, the imagination
of the Greek antiquity could be met by a homo-
geneous power of the same rank as itself; and,
as the old adage says, “like comes to like.” But
the age, the spirit of the nation,—in a word, all
those forces of which the genius of an indi-
vidual man is composed, and which, moreover,
genius is least able to resist, —had here placed
an obstacle, impenetrable both to the poet and
the philosopher. Shakspeare was no more able
to exhibit Greek characters than Bacon to ex-
pound Greek poetry. Like Bacon, Shakspeare
had in his turn of mind something that was
Roman, and not at all akin to the Greek. He
could appropriate to himself a Coriolanus and a
Brutus, a Cesar and an Antony; he could suc-
ceed with the Roman heroes of Plutarch, but not

206 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

with the Greek heroes of Homer. The latter he
could only parody, but his parody was as infe-
licitous as Bacon’s explanation of the “ Wisdom
of the Ancients.” Those must be dazzled critics
indeed who can persuade themselves that the
heroes of the Iliad are excelled by the caricatures
in “ Troilus and Cressida.” The success of such
a parody was poetically impossible; indeed, he
that attempts to parody Homer shows thereby
that he has not understood him. For the simple
and the naive do not admit of a parody, and these
have found in Homer their eternal and inimitable
expression. Just as well might caricatures be made
of the statues of Phidias. Where the creative
imagination never ceases to be simple and naive,
where it never distorts itself by the affected or the
unnatural, there is the consecrated land of poetry,
in which there is no place for the parodist. On
the other hand, where there is a palpable want of
simplicity and nature, parody is perfectly con-
ceivable, nay, may even be felt as a poetical
necessity. Thus Euripides, who, often enough,
was neither simple nor naif, could be parodied,
and Aristophanes has shown us with what felicity.
Even Auschylus, who was not always as simple as
he was grand, does not completely escape the
parodising test. But Homer is safe. To parody
Homer is to mistake him, and to stand so far

BACON AND SHAKSPEARE. 207

beyond his scope that the truth and magic of his
poetry can no longer be felt; and this is the
position of Shakspeare and Bacon. The imagina-
tion of Homer, and all that could be contem-
plated and felt by that imagination, namely the
classical antiquity of the Greeks, are to them
utterly foreign. We cannot understand Aristotle
without Plato; nay, I maintain that we cannot
contemplate with a sympathetic mind the Platonic
world of ideas, if we have not previously sympa-
thised with the world of the Homeric gods. Be it
understood I speak of the form of the Platonic
mind, not of its logical matter; in point of doc-
trine, the Homeric faith was no more that of
Plato than of Phidias. But these doctrinal or
logical differences are far less than the formal
and esthetical affinity. The conceptions of Plato
are of Homeric origin.

This want of ability to take an historical survey
of the world is to be found alike in Bacon and
Shakspeare, together with many excellencies
likewise common to them both. To the parallel
between them — which Gervinus, with his pecu-
liar talent for combination, has drawn in the
concluding remarks to his “ Shakspeare,” and has
illustrated by a series of appropriate instances —
belongs the similar relation of both to antiquity,
their affinity to the Roman mind, and their

208 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

diversity from the Greek. Both possessed to
an eminent degree that faculty for a knowledge of
human nature that at once presupposes and calls
forth an interest in practical life and historical
reality. To this interest corresponds the stage,
on which the Roman characters moved; and here
Bacon and Shakspeare met, brought together by
a common interest in these objects, and the
attempt to depict and copy them. This point of
argreement, more than any other argument, ex-
plains their affinity. At the same time there is
no evidence that one ever came into actual con-
tact with the other. Bacon does not even men-
tion Shakspeare when he discourses of dramatic
poetry, but passes over this department of poetry
with a general and superficial remark that relates
less to the subject itself than to the stage and its
uses. As far as his own age is concerned, he sets
down the moral value of the stage as exceedingly
trifling. But the affinity of Bacon to Shak-
speare is to be sought in his moral and psycho-
logical, not in his esthetical views, which are too
much regulated by material interests and utili-
tarian prepossessions to be applicable to art itself,
considered with reference to its own independent
value. However, even in these there is nothing
to prevent Bacon’s manner of judging mankind,
and apprehending characters from agreeing per-

STUDY OF HUMAN NATURE. 209

fectly with that of Shakspeare; so that human
life, the subject-matter of all dramatic art, ap-
peared to him much as it appeared to the great
artist himself, who, in giving form to this mat-
ter, excelled all others. Is not the inexhaustible
theme of Shakspeare’s poetry the history and
course of human passion? In the treatment
of this especial theme is not Shakspeare the
greatest of all poets—nay, is he not unique
among them all? And it is this very theme
that is proposed by Bacon as the chief problem
of moral philosophy. He blames Aristotle for
treating of the passions in his Rhetoric rather
than his Ethics; for regarding the artificial means
of exciting them rather than their natural history.
It is to the natural history of the human passions
that Bacon directs the attention of philosophy.
He does not find any knowledge of them among
the sciences of his time. The poets and writers
of histories,” he says, “are the best doctors of
this knowledge ; where we may find painted forth
with great life how passions are kindled and
incited ; and how pacified and refrained; and how
again contained from act and further degree;
how they disclose themselves; how they work;
how they vary ; how they gather and fortify ; how
they are inwrapped one within another; and how
they do fight and encounter one with another ; and
P

210 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

other the like particularities.”* Such a lively
description is required by Bacon from moral
philosophy. That is to say, he desires nothing
less than a natural history of the passions ; — the
very thing that Shakspeare has produced. Indeed,
what poet could have excelled Shakspeare in this
respect? Who, to use a Baconian expression, could
have depicted man and his passions more “ad
vivum”? According to Bacon, the poets and
historians give us copies of characters; and the
outlines of these images — the simple strokes that
determine characters—are the proper objects of
ethical science. Just as physical science requires
a dissection of bodies, that their hidden qualities
and parts may be discovered; so should ethies pe-
netrate the various minds of men, in order to find
out the internal basis of them all. And not only
this foundation, but likewise those external con-
ditions which give a stamp to human character
—all those peculiarities that “are imposed upon
the mind by the sex, by the age, by the region,
by health and sickness, by beauty and deformity,
and the like, which are inherent and not external ;
and, again, those which are caused by external
fortune,” t— should come within the scope of

* « Advancement of Learning,” ii. “De Augment. Scient.”
vii. 3.

+ “Advancement of Learning,” ii. For the whole passage
compare “ De Augment. Scient.” vii, 3.

CHARACTER OF JULIUS CASAR. 211

ethical philosophy. Ina word, Bacon would have
man studied in his individuality as a product of
nature and history, in every respect determined by
natural and historical influences, by internal and
external conditions. And exactly in the same
spirit has Shakspeare understood man and his
destiny; regarding character as the result of a
certain natural temperament and a certain his-
torical position, and destiny as a result of cha-
racter. The great interest that Bacon took in
portraits of character, is proved by the fact that
he attempted to draw them himself. With a
few felicitous touches he sketched the characters
of Julius and Augustus Cwsar, and his view of
both was similar to that of Shakspeare. In Ju-
lius Cxsar he saw combined all that the Roman
genius had to bestow in the shape of greatness,
nobility, culture, and fascination, and regarded
his character as the most formidable that the
Roman world could encounter. And giving what
always serves as the proof of the calculation in the
analysis of a character; Bacon so explains the
character of Cesar, as to explain his fate also.
He saw, like Shakspeare, that Cesar was natu-
rally inclined to a despotic feeling, that governed
his great qualities and also their aberrations, ren-
dering him dangerous to the Republic and blind

with respect to his enemies. He wished says
P 2

212 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

Bacon, “not to be eminent amongst great and
deserving men, but to be chief amongst inferiors
and vassals.”* He was so much dazzled by his
own greatness that he no longer knew what
danger was. ‘This is the same Cesar into whose
mouth Shakspeare puts the words —

“ Danger knows full well

That Cesar is more dangerous than he.

We were two lions litter’d in one day,

And I the elder and more terrible.”

Julius Cesar, Act II. Se. 2.

When Bacon, at last, attributes the fate of
Cesar to his forgiveness of enemies, that by
this magnanimity he might impose upon the
multitude, he still shows the dazzled man, who
heightens the expression of his greatness at the
expense of his security. |

It is very characteristic that among human
passions Bacon best understands avarice and am-
bition, and least understands love, which he ranks
very low. Love was as foreign to his nature as
lyrical poetry ; but in one single case he perceived
its tragic importance, and this very case was
developed by Shakspeare into a tragedy. ‘ You
may observe,” says Bacon, “that amongst all

* Compare Bacon’s “ Civil Character of Julius Cxsar,” which,
as well as the ‘‘ Civil Character of Augustus,” exists both in
English and Latin,

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 213

the great and worthy persons, there is not one
that hath been transported to the mad degree of
love, which shows that great spirits and great
business do keep out this weak passion. You
must except, nevertheless, Marcus Antonius.” *
He has already said that love is “ sometimes like
a siren, sometimes like a fury,” and it may be
truly observed with respect to Cleopatra, as con-
ceived by Shakspeare, that she appears to Mare
Antony in both these capacities,

* Essay “ On Love.”

gi4 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

CHAE. Vis

THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY AS THE “INSTAURATIO MAGNA”
OF SCIENCE. — ORGANON AND ENCYCLOPZDIA.

Havine fully ascertained the point of view
which Bacon opposes to all preceding Philosophy,
and which he establishes as his own, we now
describe from the same point the scientific horizon
of the Baconian mind. His philosophy is a com-
pletely new edifice, raised on foundations and
directed towards ends totally different from those
of all theories that have gone before. With
these he has so little in common that he does not
even build upon their ruins. Bacon leaves the
old edifices of philosophy standing, when he has
shown how insecure they are, and how little
suited for the habitation of man. On a soil
that has hitherto been unoccupied, and with
instruments that have never yet been used, he
will build altogether anew. The instrument
that he employs is the “ Novum Organum ;”
the ground-plan, according to which he proceeds,

“ INSTAURATIO MAGNA.” 215

is composed of the books “ De Dignitate et Aug-
mentis Scientiarum,” * which form, as it were,
the new map of the “ Globus Intellectualis ;”
the whole edifice itself he calls the “ Instauratio
Magna.” This edifice is not to be restored, but to
be entirely new. We know already the plan and
the instrument; we have now only to learn the
arrangement in detail. The harmonious plan
which is visible through the whole, is formed by
a mind directed to new discoveries and inventions,
that finds it cannot reside in any philosophical
edifice, except a science based upon experience of
the world, and using no means but experiment;
a mind, whose experience and science are directed
to nature above everything. The “ Instauratio
Magna,” therefore, consists of four principal
parts: the ground-plan, the Organum, the ex-
perimental history of nature (Historia Naturalis
et Experimentalis), the objects of which are the
phenomena of the universe (Phenomena Universi),
and the science raised on these foundations. To
adhere to our simile, we may call the two last
portions the upper stories in the pyramid of phi-
losophy, of which the description of the world is
the lowest, and science is the highest. These

* And more briefly set forth in the English treatise, “ On the
Advancement of Learning.”—J. O.
P 4

216 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

two stories are connected by the “ladder of the
understanding,” which leads upwards from expe-
rience to science (Scala Intellectus sive Filum La-
byrinthi), and by certain anticipations, deduced
not from Idols, but from sound experience,—
precursory theories (Prodromi sive Anticipationes
Philosophie Secunde), to which the investigator
is impelled by experience, and which have only
a provisional value, being always subject to the
corrections of science. They are distinguished
from objectionable anticipations by the perfect
consciousness that they are only precursory, not
conclusive. The following, therefore, are the
divisions of the “‘ Instauratio Magna :” —

De Dignitate et Augmentis Scientiarum.
Novum Organum.

Historia Naturalis et Experimentalis.
Scala Intellectus.

Se et te

Prodromi sive Anticipationes Philosophie
Secunde.
6. Scientia Activa.

Of these divisions, the first, which forms the
ground plan of the whole, is alone complete ; the
rest are mere sketches or fragments. Even of the
‘“ Novum Organum,” the first part alone is exe-
cuted; the second was to comprise the aids to the
understanding, but of these he has only specified

‘* INSTAURATIO MAGNA.” 217

one*, with which we are already acquainted, and
has given a mere prospective view of the rest.
The most complete work belonging to the third
division is the “ Silva Silvarum; or, Natural His-
tory in Ten Centuries.” It would, however, be
very unreasonable to make the fragmentary condi-
tion of his philosophy a cause of reproach against
Bacon,—as this would be reproaching him for
not living several hundred years. Separate parts
of the edifice might doubtless have been more
thoroughly completed if Bacon could have be-
stowed more time upon them. But the whole
could not remain otherwise than unfinished,
consistently with the plan of the founder, whose
design was to make not a system, but a beginning.
And this beginning, so rich in consequences,
Bacon did make ; in this sense he has completed
his work, and would have completed it, even if he
had not written nearly so much as now lies before
us. The power that was to break open a new path,
lay in the new outline and the new instrument
(Organum), and to increase this power there was
no need of a “ Silva Silvarum.” He himself was
but too well aware that time, in its progress,
destroys systems of philosophy, to all appear-
ance firmly established and hermetically closed.

* The “ Prerogative Instance,” with its subdivisions.—J. O.

218 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

Hence, from the beginning, it was his intention
to produce a philosophy which would progress
with time, not endure in spite of it; and, perhaps,
among all philosophers, Bacon has been the only
one who, far from endeavouring to resist the
stream of time, has designed a work so light that
the stream will always carry it along. Such a
work could not be a system, a concluded whole,
an unwieldy edifice; it could not remain other-
wise than a fragment,—an attempt that had
scarcely proceeded beyond the plan and the in-
strument. The fragment was to be enlarged, the
attempt was to be pursued, the plan was to be
carried out, the instrument was to be used and
improved, ‘This fragmentary appearance of his
philosophy appears quite consistent—nay, the
necessary result of its own internal condition, as
soon as it is regarded from the Baconian point of
view. Through these very gaps in the philo-
sophy, which the depreciators of Bacon’s philo-
sophy point out, comes a wholesome current of
air, for which he has purposely left room. There
are many contradictions in his theories—though
not so many, by far, as our pretended critics
would fain discover;—there are many inaccu-
racies in point of fact, and many physical errors,
which Bacon shared in common with his age, but
we may make allowance for all these contradic-

THE “ INSTAURATIO” A FRAGMENT, 219

tions, inaccuracies, and errors, without diminish-
ing by so much as a hair’s breadth the force and
power of the Baconian philosophy. This power
has been proved by history. The incompleteness
of the work was perceived,—nay, intended, by
Bacon himself. At the conclusion of his ground-
plan*, which we may appropriately call a “ New
Encyclopedia of the Sciences,” he says: “I call
to mind that reply of Themistocles, who, when
the ambassador from a petty town had spoken very
largely, rebuked him with the remark, ‘ Friend,
your words require a state.’ In the same manner
I think it may be most rightly objected to me that
my words require an age for their fulfilment, and
I answer again, ‘Yes, perhaps a whole age to
prove them; but many ages to fulfil them.’” +
By its very nature the Baconian philosophy
could take no other form than that of a sketch,
could express itself in no other mode than that of
the Encyclopedia and the Aphorism. All the
parts of his great “ Instauratio” have remained
sketches; the two that he most thoroughly per-

* The treatise “ De Augmentis,”—J. O.

T “Interim in mentem mihi venit responsum illud The-
mistoclis, qui cum ex oppido parvo legatus quidam magna
nonnulla perorasset, hominem perstrinxit ; Amice, verba tua
civitatem desiderant. Certe objici mihi rectissime posse exis-
timo, quod mea verba seculum desiderent ; seculum forte ad
probandum; complura autem secula ad perficiendum,” —De
Augment. Scient. ix.

220 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

fected and elaborated are the chief of them all,
—the outline and the Organum; of which the
former consists of an encyclopedian and _pro-
spective view of human knowledge, the latter of
aphorisms. Altogether Bacon has less necessity
for a finished than for a comprehensive mode of
expression. His larger works, such as those
on the “ Advancement of Learning” and the
* Novum Organum,” were not completed but
only enlarged outlines. The two books of his
** Kneyclopedia,” which first appeared in the
English language*, were extended by Bacon into
nine, * De Dignitate et Augmentis Scientiarum.”
His treatise entitled “ Cogitata et Visa,” was en-
larged into the “ Novum Organum.” Far from
filling up or completing these enlarged outlines,
Bacon much more sought to reduce them to a
smaller compass. Thus his “ Descriptio Globi
Intellectualis” is an encyclopedia on a diminished
scale; and in the “ Delineatio et Argumentum ”
we have the most compressed form of the ** Novum
Organum.”

Unquestionably the “ Novum Organum” is
the ripest and most peculiar fruit of the Baconian
mind. If that treatise, which Bacon entitled

«* Temporis partus maximus,”
2.

was really the first
sketch of it, more than twenty years elapsed

* The ‘* Advancement of Learning.”—J. O.

DEVELOPMENT OF THE “ ORGANUM.” 22]

before the programme of the “ Organum” ap-
peared in the “ Cogitata et Visa,” and it was not
till after an interval of eight years that the pro-
gramme was followed by the “ Organum ” itself,
Thus the “ Organum” of Bacon was developed
as slowly as Locke’s “Essay on the Human
Understanding,” and with as much circumspection
as Kant’s “Critique of Pure Reason.” Not
merely the contents, but also the form in which
the book is composed, required a long and
thorough preparation. We have already said
that the form is aphoristic, and Bacon himself
in his Encyclopedia, when, in connection with
rhetoric, he is treating of the art of scientific
exposition, declares that the aphoristic form of
instruction, if it is not altogether artificial, must
be drawn from the very depth and marrow of the
sciences, and presupposes a store of the pro-
foundest knowledge. When Bacon wrote thus,
he had, doubtless, his “ Organum” in his mind,
though he did not, as on other occasions, expressly
cite it.

Those who have endeavoured to convey an idea
of Bacon have all disregarded one point, which is
important in forming a judgment respecting this
philosopher ; they have neglected to draw a critical
comparison between his Encyclopedia and his
“Organum.” Such an inquiry would contribute

222 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM,

much towards the solution or explanation of those
contradictions which are too readily heaped upon
Bacon. The expressions of a philosopher are
not to be taken and thrown together at random,
but to be judged according to the place in which
they are found. A difference as to the time
when, and the purpose for which, certain works
were composed, may often explain a difference
of opinion. As for the Encyclopedia and the
* Novum Organum,” they differ as to time, form,
and tendency. ‘The first sketch of the Encyclo-
pedia appeared several years earlier than the
first sketch of the “ Organum,” and fifteen Jefore
the “ Organum” itself; the enlarged Encyclo-
pedia appeared two years after the “ Organum.”
In the mind of Bacon both works proceed, as it
were, side by side, and there is a reciprocal rela-
tion between them; the “ Organum” in many
points manifestly relying on the Encyclopedia,
and the Encyclopedia referring to the “ Or-
ganum” as the new logic which it requires. We
must here distinguish accurately between the
time of conception and that of execution. Doubt-
less the conception of the “ Organum” was in
Bacon’s mind before that of the Encyclopedia;
on the other hand, the execution of the “ Or-
ganum” was slower and more elaborate, and there-
fore appeared later, than the first encyclopedical

THE “NOVUM ORGANUM.” 223

sketch. The “ Organum,” in the shape in which
it comes down to us, bears the purest and most dis-
tinct impress of the Baconian philosophy. The in-
strument which Bacon long possessed, and which,
undoubtedly, he first sought, here appears sharp-
ened and pointed to the highest degree. The
whole destructive side (pars destruens) of the
Baconian philosophy is, therefore, most conspi-
cuous in the “ Organum,” — far less cloaked than
in the Encyclopedia. It may also be remarked that
the second form of the Encyclopedia (the nine
books “De Augmentis”), in many respects (as for
example, in the estimation of the mathematics),
passes far more negative judgments than the
first English sketch (“On the Advancement of
Learning”), the later work being nearer to the
“‘Organum” than the earlier one. Hence, we
may conclude that, at the time of the first sketch
of the Encyclopedia, the Baconian “ Organum”
was far less highly elaborated; and hence, ge-
nerally, we may regard the whole Baconian phi-
losophy in reference to the “ Organum ;” for it
is preceded by the conception, governed by the
execution, and guided by the rule, of this one
work. By this principle our own exposition of
Bacon is determined.

If we compare the Encyclopedia with the
“Organum,” we find in the two the same

224 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

Baconian mind at different periods of time, and
occupied with different problems. ‘The purpose
of an Encyclopedia is to build up; a doctrine
of method has to sweep away obstacles. In the
former, the magazine of the human mind is to
be filled; by the latter, the threshing-floor is to
be swept out. In the one case the problem is
material, in the other it is formal. Critics have
discovered a multitude of contradictions and anti-
nomies* in the Baconian philosophy, because
he denies in one place what he has affirmed
in another. Among these antinomies, many
are certainly so composed that the thesis may
be found in the encyclopedian works, the
antithesis in the “ Novum Organum.” <A com-
parative criticism would, however, easily explain
these contradictions, that are not so stubborn to
the quick and supple mind of Bacon, as they
appear to others. He often merely tolerates what
he seems to affirm. He would not always anni-
hilate what he denies. Indeed, it may be said of
the Baconian expressions generally, that they are
never so unconditional and unyielding as to render
all retractation impossible, whether affirmative

* The word “ antinomy” has been commonly used by German
philosophers since the time of Kant to denote the contradiction
between two propositions, of which one affirms what the other
denies.—J. O.

ORGANUM AND ENCYCLOPAEDIA. 225

or negative. I cannot here enter into a very minute
comparison of the two chief works, but I will, in
a few words, indicate the chief points of difference.
Taken altogether, the “ Novum Organum” ex-
presses the negative side of the Baconian philo-
sophy more clearly and decisively than the work
“De Augmentis.” All these negatives may be
traced back to one principle; they are all results
of the physical point of view which occupies the
centre of the Baconian philosophy, and would
hold the hegemonia in the region of science.
From this point of view the Baconian philosophy
opposes, in the most uncompromising manner,
Aristotle, scholasticism, metaphysics, and the-
ology. Now in the “Novum Organum” the phy-
sical view prevails far more exclusively, — makes
itself much more prominent than in the books on
the advancement of science, where it is satisfied
with a single province. In these, therefore, the
anti-Aristotelian and anti-scholastic tendency, as
well as the opposition to religion and theology,
are kept more in the background. In the work
“De Augmentis” may be found several instances
of respect for Aristotle; there is scarcely one in
the “ Novum Organum.” In the latter the asser-
tion is frequently and always emphatically made,
that physics are the foundation of all the sciences.
In the Encyclopedia, on the other hand, phy-
Q

226 FRANCIS BACSN OF VERULAM.

sical science acknowledges metaphysics as some-
thing above itself and below itself, as a foundation
of all the sciences, a so-called “ First Philosophy”
(philosophia prima), of which, as of metaphysics,
the “ Novum Organum” scarcely says a word.
The opposition between religion and philosophy
is expressed clearly enough in many passages of
the “ Novum Organum,” whereas, in the work
‘De Augmentis,” science with all humility pro-
fesses its subservience to religion. Thus within
the limits of philosophy there is a so-called “ na-
tural theology,” for which a certain scientific
rank is claimed; whereas the ‘‘ Organum” makes
it the reproach of the Platonic philosophy, that
it perverts science by natural theology. If Ba-
conism were strictly a system, these contradic-
tions and antinomies would be of more weight
than they are where no system is contemplated,
but merely the commencement of a new and
broadly planned cultivation,—-an instrument, a
guide. From its genetic development, which is
ever progressive, the contradictory expressions
may be easily explained. Bacon’s development
was different from that which we are accustomed to
find in German philosophers. His view gradually
became not more positive, but more negative,
and attained its culminating point in the “ No-
vum Organum.” At this point Bacon could

EXPLANATION OF CONTRADICTIONS, 227

say, “I stand alone;” whereas in his encyclopx-
dian works he departed more cautiously from
the Aristotelian traditions, although the will to
abandon them altogether is to be plainly seen
even there. That this caution partly arose from
a regard to the theologically minded king to
whom Bacon dedicated his work, I will not
venture to deny, for Bacon was exactly the man
to be influenced by considerations of the kind.
However, such explanations are at best supple-
mentary, and of only secondary value; nay, they
are not even satisfactory as far as they go, since
the “ Novum Organum” was published during the
reign of the same sovereign. Bacon’s French
adversaries would especially like to exhibit him
as a mere courtier, even in philosophy, —conceal-
ing his own views to suit those of the king. But,
in spite of many contradictions, Bacon has ex-
pressed his own ideas so plainly and unreservedly
that no thinking person could feel any doubt as
to his intentions.

Admitting the points of difference between
Bacon’s two principal works, we still find that,
above them both, the “ Instauratio Magna” stands
as a high point from which both may be surveyed
in common. Wherever contradictions occur, they
are never too absurd to admit of an explana-
tion, never so difficult as to render the discovery

Q2

(

228 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

of Bacon’s real thought impossible. Nor are the
differences so great as to destroy the unity of his
philosophy. The renovation of science ;—this
is the one object of his Encyclopedia and_ his
‘ Organum ;” and contemplating this he describes,
in the latter, a new method of scientific investi-
gation, while in the former he surveys and sorts
his scientific material. He arranges the depart-
ments, connects them with each other, and points
out those regions in the realm of human science
which still lhe fallow, and are now to be cultivated.
As Columbus, by his discoveries, altered the map
of the earth, so does Bacon alter the map of
science, by dividing, and at the same time extend-
ing its dominion. Finding new arrangements
and new problems for science, he becomes at once
its geographer and discoverer. In both these
innovations the principal characteristics of his
mind are apparent, namely, the tendency after a
complete whole, and the impulse to new disco-
veries, which constitutes, in fact, the real impulse
of his philosophy. The tendency towards a
whole seeks a science that comprises and copies
the world; and with this intention Bacon seeks
a complete division of human science, an ency-
clopedian outline. The impulse towards new dis-
coveries makes him look out everywhere for the
unsolved problems of science; that same impulse

ORDER OF BACON’S REFORMATION. 229

that caused Columbus to miss a portion of the
earth, and therefore carried him across the ocean,
also takes possession of the mind of Bacon, and
compels him to miss and discover so many por-
tions of the globus intellectualis. Thus his en-
cyclopedian outline becomes at the same. time
a book of desiderata in science.

It is perfectly clear to us how this aspiring
mind, so athirst for knowledge, first conceived the
formal, and first solved the material problems
among those which he had proposed. What
Bacon first beheld was the material condition of
the sciences, in which he missed so much; and,
above all, connection, completeness, and a right
disposition of parts. It is clear to him that
science ought to be a copy of the real world ;
and, compared with this real world, the copy
which Bacon saw before him in the actual
science of his day was most dissimilar, frag-
mentary, and defective. The fragments were
to be united, the gaps to be filled, and the copy
of the world thus rendered complete. This task
was first to be accomplished, and Bacon made
the attempt in his treatise on the “ Advancement
of Learning.” Here, indeed, a new method, a
new scientific path was requisite, and this could
be no other than experience conformed to nature.
But Bacon had to make a practical trial of this path

Q 3

230 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

himself before he could describe it, and show it
to others. We can easily understand that Bacon
employed his method before he revealed it, that
it was his instrument before it was his object, but
that this instrument was not brought to its highest
degree of elaboration till Bacon made it the ob-
ject of a special exhibition — which he did in the
« Novum Organum.”

With Bacon, missing and seeking are identical.
In order to find, we must seek rightly. In his
Encyclopedia, Bacon sought for all that he
missed in the actual state of science, and in the
“ Novum Organum” he described the right man-
ner of search. What he first missed was a con-
nection between the individual sciences; what he
first sought, therefore, was science as a whole, the
parts of which should be continuously connected,
so that none of them should exist sundered and
separate from the rest. Bacon wished to awaken
life in science. Hence, above all, he had to
fashion a body capable of life; that is to say, an
organisation in which no part should be wanting,
and all the parts of which should be properly
connected. That sterility of all previous science,
which had made so painful an impression on the
mind of Bacon, was greatly caused by the isolated
condition in which the individual sciences were
placed, barred from all communication and inter-

CONNECTION OF SCIENCES. 231

course with each other. Combination must be as
fruitful as isolation is sterile. Even a survey of
the sciences advances scientific culture, and facili-
tates communication. A perfect division shows
wherein science, as a whole, is yet defective, —
indicates what is not yet known, and then incites
the scientific mind to new achievements. Lastly,
an encyclopedian arrangement brings the indi-
vidual sciences into contact, so that they may be
compared together, and rectify and fertilise each
other. On this point Bacon makes a remarkable
declaration: “Generally let this be a rule, that
all partitions of knowledges be accepted rather
for lines and veins, than for sections and separa-
tions; and that the continuance and entireness
of knowledge be preserved. For the contrary
hereof hath made particular sciences to become
barren, shallow, and erroneous, while they have
not been nourished or maintained from the
common fountain.”*

Bacon’s design was to have exhibited the
sciences connected into one whole. His Ency-
clopedia is an attempted system, but to be
appreciated it should be inspected by the eyes,
not of a system-builder, but of an encyclopeedist.
The man of system will often make the correct

* “ Advancement of Learning,” Book II. There isa parallel
passage in “De Augmentis,” IV. 1.
Q4

232 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

objection that Bacon’s divisions are not very
accurate, and that the connection he would
establish is often loose and arbitrary. The
principle of division is new, but the rules by
which it is effected are those of ordinary logic.
If we distinguish the man of system from the
encyclopedist, we find that the latter will be
satisfied with a mere co-ordination of scientific
material, while the former desires an internal
connection. The encyclopedist seeks, above all,
to make his materials complete, and therefore he
chooses that form which most favours and ensures
completeness. If this form neither is nor can be
systematic, he chooses the aggregative, and no
ageregative form so well ensures completeness of
material as the alphabetic. Now an alphabetic
encyclopedia is a dictionary, and if an encyclo-
pedia cannot or will not be a real system, it must
become adictionary. The Baconian Encyclopedia
was not a system, in the strict sense of the word,
but a mere logical aggregate. “Like the Baco-
nian philosophy generally, it had no aptitude or
propensity to become a system. Hence, as it
progressed it became a dictionary, and the alpha-
betical form was substituted for the logical. The
further progression is to be found first in Bayle’s
Critico-historical Dictionary, and afterwards in

the French Encyclopedia of Diderot and d’Alem-

TNE “ ENCYCLOPZEDISTS.” 233

bert, who in their preface refer to Bacon, espe-
cially to his treatise on the “ Advancement of
Learning.” The French Encyclopedia—that
magazine of the so-called ‘“ enlightenment” (Auf-
klérung)— may be traced back to Bacon, not only
as the founder of realistic philosophy in general,
but also as the first encyclopadist of this tendency.
However, the distinction between Bacon and the
French encyclopedists consists not merely in the
circumstance that one employs the logical form,
the other the alphabetical, but likewise in the
different relation in which the two parties stood
with respect to science. Diderot and d’Alem-
bert reaped where Bacon had sown. The former
renovated philosophy, the latter collected what
the new philosophy had produced. Bacon had
chiefly to do with problems; the French encyclo-
pedists with results; they registered the acts (acta)
of philosophy, whereas Bacon had discovered in
his time what was yet to be done. His books on
the advancement of science were, as d’Alembert
says, a “catalogue immense de ce qui reste 4
découvrir.”

234 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

CHAP. IX.

THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY AS AN ENCYCLOPZDIA OF THE
SCIENCES.

THE principle according to which Bacon divides
the intellectual world (globus intellectualis) is
psychological. He distinguishes the scientific, as
Plato does the political classes, according to the
faculties of the human soul. As many faculties
as we have to copy, and reproduce the real world,
,, a8 many various images of the world as are possible
_ to the human mind, into so many parts may the
total intellectual image of the world be divided.
Our faculties in this respect are memory (as a re-
_taining perception), imagination, and reason ; con-
sequently there is a copy of the world referable to
memory (or experience); an imaginary copy, and a
rational copy; the purely empirical copy is History,
the imaginary is Poetry, the rational is Science,
in the confined sense of the word. Of poetry —
which compared with history is “ fiction,” compared
with science a “ dream”— we have already treated.

-

HISTORY. 235

which bear the same relation to each other that
memory bears to reason, still remain to be dis-
cussed. The human mind rises from sensuous
perception to rational thought; here the method
and the Encyclopedia of Bacon follow the same
course.

HIsTorRY

Contains the copy of the events of the world,
collected by experience and preserved in the
memory. Since the world comprises the king-
doms of nature and of man, so may the history of
the world be divided into natural (historia na-
turalis) and civil history (historia civilis). The
works of nature are either free, when they are
produced by natural forces alone, or they are
unfree, when they likewise depend on human
industry. The free product may be either
regular or anomalous; the former are called by
Bacon “ generationes,” the latter “ pretergenera-
tiones.” ‘The artificial works of nature are me-
chanical. Hence natural history may be divided
into the * historia generationum, pretergenera-
tionum,” and ‘ mechanica.” The last would be a
history of Technology, which Bacon misses, and
therefore requires, as well as a history of natural
malformations. The series of regular natural

236 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

products is followed by Bacon (after the model of
the ancients) from the highest down to sublunary
regions. He begins with the heavenly bodies,
and from them descends to meteors and atmo-
spherical phenomena, such as winds, rain, weather,
temperature, &c.; from these he descends fur-
ther to earth and sea, the elements or general
constituents of matter*, and finally to specific
bodies.

The description of these objects may be either
merely narrative or methodical. The latter is
regarded even here with attentive interest by
Bacon; even here he commends the inductive
description of nature as the path by which the
materials of natural history are brought to philo-
sophy. “The merely narrative description is
less to be esteemed than induction, which offers
the first breast to philosophy.”* This proposition
sufficiently proves our assertion, that the notion
of a new method and the wish to realise it were in
Bacon’s mind before his encyclopedian attempts.
But a natural history so composed as to be con-
ducive to science is the very thing that is missed
by Bacon, and he endeavours to fill up the gap
by a number of separate treatises.

* « Allgemeine materien.”—J. O. This is an abbreviated form
of a proposition that occurs in “ De Augmentis,” IL. 3.

+ Comprising “ Parasceve ad Historiam Naturalem et Experi-
mentalem ; Historia Ventorum ; Historia Vite et Mortis ; Thema

HISTORY OF LITERATURE. 237

Human communities may be divided into state
and church; the history of mankind is conse-
quently divided into historia ecclesiastica et
civilis— the latter in the narrow sense of the
word. Between the two, however, Bacon ob+
serves a gap, which to him is, of course, a problem,
There is not yet a history of literature and art.
For the solution of this problem Bacon cannot,
indeed, cite any example; but, by way of pre-
scribing for the deficiency, he has written a few’
words, which could not be properly appreciated
before the present day, as it is only of late that
we have begun to supply it. His prescription
is as valuable now as at the time when it was
written. The mere desire for a history of litera-
ture and art, expressed by the lips of newly
awakened philosophy among the innovating
plans of a Bacon, is of itself surprising; still
more so is the exactness with which he states
how he would have his plan carried out. What
is literature but a copy of the state of the
world in the human mind? What, then, is the
history of literature but a copy of this copy of
the world? For this very reason we are sur-
prised at the postulate in the mouth of Bacon.
That realistic intellect was so exclusively directed

Ceeli ; De Fluxu et Refluxu Maris ; Silva Silvarum, sive Historia
Naturalis.”

|
|

238 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

to the copy of the world, that we are astonished
to find him regarding a copy of that copy as a
desideratum. This can alone be explained from
the extremely realistic view which Bacon took of
human affairs. He prized literature according to
its real* worth, he remarked its real connection
with human life as a whole, and wished therefore
‘to see it exhibited as a matter of universal and
political history. He regarded literature and art
as the members most full of soul} throughout the
entire organisation of human culture; these show
the image of the world as it is reflected in the
eye of the human mind. Thus, speaking of
literary history, he says: “ Without this the
history of the world seemeth to me to be as
the statue of Polyphemus with his eye out.”
Literature is always the mirror of its age, and
in this sense forms a part of universal histo-
ry. Now there is not as yet the universal his-
tory of literature; and in this sense he sets it
down as a scientific destderatum. Respecting
the separate departments of science, as mathe-
matics, philosophy, rhetoric, &c., there are, in-
deed, some historical notices, but there is no tie
to connect these detached and scattered fragments

* As opposed to ideal—J.O. “ Advancement of Learning,’
IL Also “De Augment.” II. 4.
+ “Seelenvoll.”"—J. O.

HISTORY OF LITERATURE. 239

into one whole, no general historical picture of
human science and art. It is not enough to know
the antecedents of each science separately. There
is a connection between all the literary works of
an age, and also a pragmatic connection between
the successive ages of a series. ‘“ The sciences,”
Bacon happily says, ‘‘ migrate like nations.”*
Literary history should describe successive ages,
observe epochs, pursue the course of the sciences
from their first beginning to their bloom and
their decadence; show how they have been
first called forth, cultivated, then gradually suf-
fered to wither, and finally animated anew. In
this course the destinies of literature are closely
combined with those of nations. There is a causal
connection, — a reciprocal action between literary
and political life,—and to this important point
Bacon urgently directs the attention of the his-
torian. Literature is to be shown in its natural
character, as affected by the peculiarities of the
people whose life it is to represent. Works of
literature are always influenced by the climate,
the natural peculiarities and dispositions, the good
and evil fortunes, the moral, religious, and poli-
tical condition of the people among whom they
are produced. Hence the theme of literary his-
tory is the general state of literature at different

* “ Migrant scientie non secus ac populi.”—De Avg. II. 4,

240 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

periods, viewed in connection with that of politics
and religion. In other words, Bacon regards
literature as a portion of the aggregate culture of
humanity; would have the history of literature
and art treated as a history of cultivation.* And
in what spirit, in what form does he desire that
this history should be written? “ The themes of
history,” he says, “ should not be so treated that
time is lost in praise and blame, after the fashion
of the critics, but events themselves should be
narrated just as they occurred, with a more
sparing introduction of opinion. With respect
to the manner of preparing such a history, we
recommend above all that its matter should not
be sought exclusively from historians and critics,
but that through successive centuries (or shorter
periods), beginning from the remotest antiquity,
the principal works composed in the course of
each should be consulted; and that, though these
works could not be read through (for that would
be an infinite labour), they should be so tasted,
and their argument, style, and method should be
so observed, that the genius of their age should
be waked from the dead as if by some incan-
tation.” ft

* Dr. Fischer refers to Gervinus’s “ History of German Litera-
ture,” as a specimen of a history composed after this model. —J. O.
Tt “At hee omnia tractari precipimus, ut non criticorum more
in laude et censura tempus teratur ; sed plane historice res ips

UNIVERSAL HISTORY. 241

To political history also does Bacon, in the
fertile spirit of his philosophy, propose new
problems and prescribe new objects. History,
like all science, is based upon experience; and

to experience the nearest objects are particulars, |

the nearest field is its own intuition. Hence
Bacon rightly attaches so much importance to
particular histories, memoirs, and biographies, as

LORRI OO 66 he nn oe oe

opposed to universal histories, which, in most |

cases, are without the guidance of experience,

and are less easily comprehensible as to subject-
matter, while they are proportionably deficient
in liveliness and fidelity. Most just is Bacon’s
remark on the subject of universal history: “If
we more accurately weigh the matter, we shall
find that the laws of proper history are so severe
that it is hardly possible to apply them in
treating of so vast an argument; so that the
majesty of history is rather diminished than in-

narrentur, judicium parcius interponatur. De modo autem
hujusmodi histori conficiends, illud inprimis monemus ; ut
materia et copia ejus non tantum ab historiis et criticis petatur,
verum etiam ut per singulas annorum centurias, aut etiam minora
intervalla, seriatim (ab ultima antiquitate facto principio) libri
precipui qui per ea temporis spatia conscripti sunt in consilium
adhibeantur ; ut ex eorum non perlectione (id enim infinitum
quiddam esset) sed degustatione, et observatione argumenti, stili,
methodi, Genius illius temporis Literarius veluti incantatione
quadam a mortuis evocetur.”—De Augm. II. 4.

R

242 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

creased by the magnitude of its material. For it
will naturally happen that he who pursues such
various subjects in every direction, becoming
less and less scrupulous in the research, and
his diligence being weakened as to details by the
variety to which it is extended, will eagerly catch
at popular rumour and compose history from
traditions of no great authenticity, and such like
flimsy material. Moreover, he will find it ne-
cessary (if he would have his work increase to
an infinite extent) deliberately to pass over many
things worthy of record, and frequently to fall
into the manner of epitomes. There is also an-
other danger by no means trifling, and directly
opposed to the utility of history ; namely this, that
whereas universal history preserves some narra-
tives that otherwise, perchance, would perish, it
frequently, for the sake of that popular com-
pendiousness, destroys others of great profit that
might otherwise have lived.”* On the other

* «“ Veruntamen, si quis rem rectius perpendat, animadvertet
tam severas esse Historie Juste leges, ut eas in tanta argumenti
vastitate exercere vix liceat; adeo ut minuatur potius historiz
majestas molis granditate, quam amplificetur. Fiet enim, ut qui
tam varia undequaque persequitur, is informationis religione
paulatim remissa, et diligentia sua, que ad tot res extenditur, in
singulis elanguescente, auras populares et rumores captet; et ex
relationibus non admodum authenticis, aut hujusmodi aliqua
levidensi materia, historiam conficiet. Quinetiam necesse ei erit
(ne opus in immensum excrescat) plurima relatu digna consulto

SPECIAL HISTORY. 243

hand, the biographies of important persons, spe-
cial histories, such as those of the Campaign of
Cyrus, the Peloponnesian War, Catiline’s Con-
spiracy, &c., admit of a lively, true, and artisti-
cal form of narration, because the subjects are
thoroughly defined and rounded off. All genuine
historians, all who know what historical writing
should be, will agree with Bacon. A mind that
is truly and artistically historical chooses of its
own accord only such subjects as it can thoroughly
master and can distinctly characterise in all their
parts. Universal history can only result from
well-grounded special histories, just as, accord-
ing to Bacon, philosophy can only result from
experience, and metaphysics from physics. Great
historians usually begin with monographies and
special histories, the subjects of which they
prefer to take from the sphere of their own
immediate observation. With such thoroughly
definite and comprehensible materials, the his-
toriographer can at once display and exercise
his talent. The historian and the artist are here

pretermittere, atque ad epitomarum rationes sepius delabi.
Incumbit etiam aliud periculum non parvum, atque utilitati illi
Historie Universalis ex diametro oppositum; quemadmodum
enim Universalis Historia narrationes aliquas, que alias forte
fuissent periturse, conservat ; ita contra sepenumero narrationes
alias satis fructuosas, que aliter victure fuissent, propter grata
mortalibus rerum compendia perimit.”—-De Augm. II. 8.

R 2

244 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

alike. The more indefinite and general the
subject chosen by the artist, the more lifeless and
ineffective is his performance. As the subject
lacks natural vitality, so will the work be with-
out poetical charm. Now within the sphere of
historical life nothing is nearer to the historian
than his own nation. Here he finds a source not
- only in a history conformable to experience, but
also in his own habitual experience. Hence Ba-
con recommends the history of the writer’s own
nation as the most lively and interesting theme,
and his recommendation is not only for the benefit
of history, but also in conformity with his age.
It corresponds to the spirit of that reformatory
principle which in opposition to the middle ages,
had called forth a national church, a national
policy, a national literature, and had victoriously
maintained those powers in England more than in
any other country. Bacon chose the history of
his own nation in the newly completed period of
its national restoration, — the history of England
from the union of the Roses under Henry VII.
to the union of the kingdoms under James I.*
In his history of the reign of Henry VII. he has
performed the first part of the task.

Bacon would have political history as pure

* Compare “De Augment.” II. 7., and “ Advancement of
Learning.”

SPECIAL HISTORY. 245

an exhibition of facts as literary history. As the
latter should be free from perpetual criticism, so
should the former from a perpetual display of poli
tical views. He points to that class of historian
who write history for the sake of some parti-
cular doctrine, and are always returning to cer-
tain events in order to demonstrate their theory.
They compare every fact with the doctrine that
is already in their mind, and their judgment is
the result of the comparison. If their heads are
filled with some modern ideal of a constitution,
they will pronounce judgment on Alexander and
Cesar accordingly, and inform us that these
were not constitutional monarchs. We need not
look far for examples. This intolerable manner
of writing history is happily termed by Bacon
“chewing the cud of history,” which, he says, is
allowable to a politician that only uses history as
a voucher for his doctrines, but not to the real
historian. “It is ill-timed and tiresome,” he con-
tinues, “ to throw in political remarks on every
occasion, and thus to interrupt the thread of the
narrative. For although every history of the
wiser kind is, as it were, impregnated with
political admonitions and precepts, nevertheless
the author ought not to be his own midwife.” *

* “Historiam autem Justam ex professo scribenti politica
ubique ingerere, atque per illa filum historiz interrumpere, in-

R 3

246 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

SCIENCE.

History occupies itself with facts, science with
causes. The former, according to Bacon, crawls
upon the ground, but of the fountains of science

vw, fet .

“t\ ~) some are situated above, some beneath. For the

ein Tire

Vn Lo AIMAGX, . a
y causes of things are either supernatural or natural;
. a

oe len wiithe former can only be revealed, the latter must

. i f ¥ e e e

wea’ © be investigated. The science of supernatural
g

causes is revealed theology, that of natural causes

is science in a peculiar and more limited sense, —
or philosophy. Thus is a boundary mark set up
-between theology and philosophy, to which we
shall afterwards return, and which we shall con-
sider more completely.*

Philosophy, then, is the knowledge of things
from natural causes. The possible objects of our
knowledge, are God, nature, and our own internal
essence (Wesen). We represent to ourselves all
these objects, but each in a different way,—
nature alone immediately, God through nature,
and ourselves through reflection; or to use the
expression of Bacon, who compares knowledge

tempestivum quiddam et molestum est. Licet enim Historia
quseque prudentior politicis preeceptis et monitis veluti impreg-
nata sit, tamen scriptor ipse sibi obstetricari non debet.”— De
Augm. II. 10.

* Compare Chap. X. 1. of this work.

PHILOSOPHIA PRIMA. 247

with sight, we perceive ourselves radio reflexo,
nature radio directo, and God radio refracto.*
Conformably to these several objects, philosophy
may be divided into natural theology, natural

philosophy, and anthropology in the widest sense
of the word.

I, FUNDAMENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

PHILOSOPHIA PRIMA.

All the knowledge pertaining to philosophy is
based upon natural causes. very proposition
embodying such knowledge is an axiom.f Now,
are there not certain axioms that are common to
all sciences, and are equally valid in theology,
physics, and ethics? Or, what is the same thing,
are there not certain attributes that may be pre-
dicated of everything that falls within the sphere
of cognition, without asingle exception? If there
are such axioms, the sum of them manifestly
constitutes a science, which, though distinguished
from all the others, is not isolated, for it contains

* Compare “ De Augment,” IIL 1,

t The original cannot be literally rendered, through the
absence of a plural to the word “knowledge:” “ Alle Erkenntnisse
der Philosophie griinden sich auf natiirlichen Ursachen. Jede
Erkenntniss aus natiirlichen Ursachen bildet ein Axiom.”—
J.O.

R4

248 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

the principles applicable to all alike. It is con-
sequently the foundation of the others,— Funda-
mental Philosophy, or, to use the words of Bacon,
the “‘ common parent” of the sciences. After the
precedent of the ancients he calls it “ philosophia
prima,” adding that it is “the wisdom, which
was formerly defined as the science of things di-
vine and human.”* This science is not meta-
physics, such as are to be found with Aristotle.
Bacon has merely proposed a problem, by way
of example, without any solution. A systema-
tic solution he did not even attempt, but he
regarded the science as something new, and far
from being in an advanced state, not even dis-
covered. We must ask ourselves a question, the
answer to which we find nowhere: “ What did
Bacon intend with his Fundamental Philosophy,
what did he mean by his philosophia prima?” He
calls it the parent of all the other sciences ; whereas
in the “ Novum Organum” he gives this name to
natural philosophy. Here then we find most dis-
tinctly one of those prominent differences to which
we have already alluded in our comparison of
the Organum with the Encyclopedia. In the
« Novum Organum” the Fundamental Philosophy
is scarcely mentioned in the sense attached to it

* “Que olim rerum divinarum atque humanarum scientia
definiebatur.”—— De Augm, III. 1,

PHILOSOPHIA PRIMA. 949

in the Encyclopedia*, and only a slight trace is
left to remind the attentive reader of the earlier
notion. This is to be found in the remarkable
passage in the second book, where Bacon, treating
of natural analogies, touches cursorily upon the
analogies between the sciences, and uses the very
examples by which he previously sought to illus-
trate his idea of the philosophia prima. This fact
will serve as an index to the truth. Fundamental
Philosophy, in Bacon’s sense of the word, is nothing
but the idea of analogy applied to the sciences.
Now, what are natural analogies? The first.
steps that lead to the unity of nature. What,
in Bacon’s sense, is the proposed Fundamental
Philosophy? The unity of all the sciences. Ba-
con seeks this unity by the same method of ana-
logy. Not on dialectical, but on real grounds,
should the universal predicates of things (such as
much and little, like and different, possible and
impossible, essential and contingent, &c.) be
determined. And here he unquestionably desig-
nates analogy as the guiding point of view. For it
is only by the idea of analogy that the oppositions
in nature can be reconciled, and things regarded
as belonging to a graduated series. Only under
the guidance of this idea, could Bacon determine
the universal predicates. “There has been

* Both in the “ Advancement” and “ De Augmentis.”—J. QO.

250 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

much talk about the similar and the different, but
it has not been sufficiently considered how nature
combines both, always uniting different species by
means of intermediate formations, such as, for
instances, he introduces between plants and fishes,
fishes and birds, birds and quadrupeds,” &c.*

If now we consider the matter closely, and —
what is necessary in all cases, especially with
Bacon—compare the philosopher with himself,
we arrive at the following explanation of the
Fundamental Philosophy projected by Bacon.
From natural causes there is in all things a
harmony or a conformity, and therefore a science
in which all sciences agree. From the point of
view afforded by analogy the things in their infinite
variety will appear as degrees of a scale. That the
aggregate of things, from the humblest of creatures
to the Deity himself forms a regular ascending
scale,—this is the profound thought that Bacon
without doubt entertained, that lay at the basis
of his Fundamental Philosophy, and that im-
pelled him to seek analogies everywhere, both in
things and sciences. Had Bacon more clearly
seen the import of this thought, reduced it to a
principle, and pursued it to its consequences; he
would have been the English Leibnitz, and not

* This is not a quotation, but a condensation of a passage
that occurs in “ De Augmentis,” IIL. 1.

ee

PHILOSOPHIA PRIMA. 251

the antipode of Aristotle. For both Aristotle
and Leibnitz regarded the world as a scale of
natural formations or entelechies. Nor could even
Bacon have wished to carry out any other thought
in a science which he called the parent of the
rest. It may, too, be repeatedly remarked that
his opposition to Aristotle recedes more into the
background, where the idea of a Fundamental
Philosophy is brought prominently forward, as
in the books on the advancement of science*,
whereas this same opposition is most sharply pro-
minent where the idea of analogy only takes a
secondary place among the expedients of the
Baconian method, as in the “ Novum Organum.”
It is therefore certain that in the mind of Bacon
this idea preceded the elaboration of his method ;
it is certain that the same thought, which, in the
Encyclopedia, is to originate a fundamental sci-
ence, and form an axiom of axioms, was satisfied
in the “Organum” with the subordinate part
of an expedient. If Bacon says here that the
analogies form the first and lowest step towards
the unity of all things, what other idea could he
lay at the foundation of a science which, accord-

ing to his view, was to constitute the trunk of the

others, —the “ first philosophy?”

* That is, the “ Advancement” and the “De Augmentis.”—
J. O.

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A Cube
ak ol

252 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

II, NATuRAL THEOLOGY

Seeks to deduce the knowledge of God from
natural causes; contemplates him through the
medium of things, and thus receives but an im-
“ perfect and obscure semblance of his true essence,
seeing his image broken, as we see our own

when it is reflected in water. Not by the laws

of nature, but only by the miracles of revelation,
can God be made manifest in his true preter-
natural essence. Hence the true knowledge of God
is not possible by natural, but only by revealed

») theology. Since, then, religion and faith can only
‘e be based on the true copy of God in man, it fol-

lows that they completely coincide with revealed
theology, and have nothing in common with the
natural. The boundary between revealed and
natural theology is, with Bacon, a boundary like-
wise between revelation and nature, religion and
philosophy, faith and science. This boundary
science must never oyerstep, but must remain
mindful of the words: “Give unto faith what
is faith’s;” by which Bacon once for all gets rid
of every possibility of a border-war, and comes to
a final settlement with faith.* Science can do

* There is a refinement in the original which can scarcely be

followed in English. “Sich mit dem Glauben weniger auseinander-
setzt als abfindet.”—J. O.

NATURAL THEOLOGY. 253

religion no positive, but only negative service ;
it can neither prove nor make religion, but
only prevent its opposite. Natural philosophy
cannot found faith, but merely refute infidelity.
So far does it extend; no further. It perceives
the image of God in nature; which will suffice
against atheism, but not for religion. If the
boundary line between religion and philosophy is
obliterated, if one encroaches on the other, both
will go astray. Religion, when it dabbles with |
science, becomes heterodox ; science, when it |
mixes itself up with religion, becomes fantastical, |
so that, on the one hand, there is a heretical
religion, and, on the other, a fantastical philo-
sophy, as inevitable consequences when faith

and science, revealed and natural theology flow
into each other. They should be kept apart; for
every union leads to confusion on both sides.
When therefore Bacon, in the first book of his
work “De Augmentis,” tells the king that a
slight taste from the cup of philosophy may per-
haps lead to atheism, but that a fuller draught
will bring back to religion, certainly no such
virtue lies in the cup of the Baconian philosophy.
Indeed, Bacon himself was very far from fulfilling,
in the last of his books, “* De Augmentis,” what
he had promised by that assertion. The maxim, |

* In the “ Advancement” it stands thus: —*“ It is an assumed

254 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

which has been quoted over and over again, may
be set down among those figures of speech that
always halt, and that should never be quoted in
earnest, when, as in this case, they are supported
by nothing deeper.

III. NaturaL PHILOsopuy

Seeks the knowledge of things from natural
“causes, and an apprehension of the effective

-, ( .¢power of nature makes us capable of producing
«dios gdsimilar effects ourselves as soon as the material
Sx J. of conditions are at our command. The knowledge

ae. bes
: a Anh

a wa
{0

TOS at a:
f

. of causes is called by Bacon theoretical or specu-

“ative natural philosophy ; the production of ef-
_ fects by our own exertions, practical or operative.
The former of these is the basis of the latter.
The former leads from experience to axioms, the
latter from axioms to inventions; the direction of
the former is upwards, that of the latter down-
wards. In this sense Bacon calls the theoretical

truth and a conclusion of experience, that a little or superficial
knowledge of philosophy may incline the mind of man to
atheism ; but a further proceeding therein doth bring the mind
back again to religion.” In “ De Augmentis,” thus :— Quin
potius certissimum ‘est, atque experientia comprobatum, leves
gustus in philosophia movere fortasse ad Atheismum, sed
pleniores haustus ad religionem reducere.” The figurative mode
of expression, it will be observed, belongs to the latter only.—
J. O.

Ld

PHYSICS AND METAPHYSICS. 255

natural philosophy, the ascending (ascensoria) ;
the practical, the descending (descensoria.)*

i THNORMTICAL NATURAL PHILOSOPHY

Investigated Me teataral) causes of things; but ;
these causes may be of two kinds, either blind Taya
(mechanical), efficient causes (cause efficientes), ore whi y ,
final causes (cause finales). The former are ro-ee
ferable to (natural or mechanical) causality, the ;~
latter to teleology, as their respective points of boss
view. The former is called by Bacon, “ Physique,”

the latter, “ Metaphysique.” Thus, with Bacon,

physics and metaphysics do not differ as to their

objects, but as to the points of view from which

they are regarded. Both are natural philosophy ;

the objects of both are the same natural pheno-

mena contemplated from different points of view.

Physics investigate the material of things and

their efficient forces, Metaphysics the forms of ©
things and their fitness to an end.t They con-
template different sides of the same nature; the

former, matter and force; the latter, form and
purpose.

* Compare “ De Augment.” III. 3.
Tt “Physica est que inquirit de efficiente et materia ; Meta-
physica que de forma et fine."— De Augm. III. 4.

256 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

Puysics

Investigate bodies ;—the objects of this science
are inherent in matter, and therefore transitory.
Nevertheless the corporeal world is a compound
whole, and this whole consists of an infinite
variety of individual formations. Unity and
variety are therefore the two great aspects under
which nature presents herself as a whole. Her
unity consists of those elements that are common
to all bodies, and in the fabric of the universe
which comprises all bodies; her unity is un-
folded in individuals,—in the different bodies
and their peculiarities. Thus Physics are divided
into three parts, containing the doctrines of ele-
ments, of the fabric of the universe, and of the
various bodies. These last are again susceptible
of a twofold division. They are concrete indivi-
duals that may be ranged in genera, species, &c.,
and at the same time we find among them certain
qualities common to many or all of them, such as
figure, motion, weight, warmth, light, and so on.
Hence Bacon divides Physics, as the special science
_ of bodies, into the concrete and the abstract.
— Conerete physics investigate individual concrete
bodies, such as plants, animals, &c.; and abstract
physics the general physical qualities, such as
heat, gravity, &c.

PHYSICAL ASTRONOMY. 257

Physics, as such, form a medium between
natural history and metaphysics. Concrete phy-
sics border more closely upon natural history,
abstract physics upon metaphysics. Moreover,
Physics is subject to the same division* as na-
tural history, explaining the objects which the
latter merely describes. Here Bacon misses,
above all, the Physics of the heavenly bodies,
There is only a mathematical sketch of their out-
ward form, no physical theory of their causes and
effects. We want a physical Astronomy, which
Bacon, in distinction from the mathematical, calls
“ living .” a physical Astrology, which, in distinc
tion from superstitious Astrology, he calls sane.”
By living Astronomy (Astronomia viva) Bacon
denotes a right understanding of the grounds
of the celestial phenomena, the causes of their
form and motion; by sane Astrology (Astrologia
sana), a right understanding of the effects and
influences of the stars upon the earth and earthly
bodies. These effects are in all cases natural,
never fatalistic. The heavenly bodies do not
determine the destinies of the world ;—in this
superstition consists the folly of Astrology, as it

* That is to say, with regard to the matters treated. “ Physica
autem concreta eandem subit divisionem, quam historia naturalis ;
ut sit vel cirea Ccelestia, vel circa Meteora, vel circa globum
terre et maris.”— De Augm. III. 4.—J. O,

8

———_

258 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

has hitherto existed; — but they exercise, as in
the case of the sun and moon, a physical influence

upon the earth, which is manifested in change of
season, the tides, &c. Such influences should be

explained; we should learn what is the nature
of their power, what bodies are affected by them,
and how far their operation extends.

METAPHYSICS

Investigate the final causes of things, and there-
fore consist in a teleological interpretation of
nature. Bacon likes to compare sciences with
pyramids; they rise from the broad plain of
history and experience to laws, which ascend
higher and higher, until they reach their summit
in the highest law, as the unity of the whole.
Natural philosophy may be regarded under this
image. Its broad base is natural history; then
come physics, gradually ascending, and the sum-
mit is formed by metaphysics*, as the science of
formal and final causes.

The Baconian metaphysics so far agree with
the Platonic that they regard the forms of things,
and so far with the Aristotelian that they give a
teleological interpretation of nature; but are dis-
tinguished from both, inasmuch as they are meant

‘

* Compare “ De Augment.” IIT. 4. ; also “ Advancement,” II.

BACONIAN METAPHYSICS. 259

for nothing more than speculative physics. They
are not the “fundamental philosophy.” In the

structure of the pyramids Bacon finds a symbol |

for the scale of things: ‘Everything ascends to |

unity according to a certain scale.” This thought, |
which Bacon considers profound and excellent,
even in the mouths of Parmenides and Plato, is’
the basis of his “ fundamental philosophy,” which |
contemplates the scale of a// things, whereas meta-
physics comprehend only that part of it that is |
occupied by the scale of natural things. If sciences |

form scales like things, metaphysics stand at the
highest degree of physics.

Bacon draws a distinction between the forms
and the ends of nature, and makes the explana-
tion of them the subject of the two departments
of metaphysics. By “forms” he means nothing
more than permanent causes. They are efficient
causes, elevated into the form of universality.
That which produces heat, in every case, is called
by Bacon the form of heat. The form of white is
that which, in every case, causes bodies to appear
white. Thus the forms of nature, to use the lan-
guage of Bacon, are the last true differences to
which the conditions of natural phenomena may
be reduced; the factors absolutely necessary for
the qualities of bodies. These qualities are in-

vestigated by abstract physics, which therefore
8 2

—_

'
}

260 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

border on the region of metaphysics. To speak
accurately, abstract physics necessarily merge into
metaphysics; for they seek the conditions under
which, in every case, physical qualities are exhi-
bited. If these conditions are shown, physical
science has abstracted from the individual bodies,
and has set up a law without a material substra-
tum; that is to say, an incorporeal form. Thus
it passes into the region of metaphysics.

But, in the explanation of natural ends, the
metaphysical is distinguished from the physical
point of view. The distinction must, according
to Bacon, be made with the utmost accuracy, and
most vigorously preserved. That this distinction
between the metaphysical and physical modes of
interpretation was not considered before his time
is, in his eyes, the first indication of scientific
confusion, which, as he rightly thinks, is the same
thing as scientific calamity (philosophica calamitas).
On this account there was no genuine and fertile
philosophy of nature. As science generally be-
comes fantastical when it is mingled with theo-
logy, so do physics become sterile and impure by
a mixture with metaphysics. ‘ The excursions of
final causes,” says Bacon, “into the limits of
physical causes hath bred a vastness and solitude
in that track.”* The purification of physics con-

* “ Advancement.” Also “De Augmentis,” III. 4,

EFFICIENT AND FINAL CAUSES, 261 |

: Fur ch Cas
sists in the banishment of final causes to the fur. k.
region of metaphysics. The teleological point of ?v
view is not to be rejected altogether, but merely buecs
restricted in its application; it is not even to be
opposed to the physical point of view, but merely

kept distinct from it. Neither absolutely excludes

the other; indeed they are quite capable of recon-
eiliation. That which, from one point of view,
appears as the mere effect of blind powers, —why

should it not, from another point, appear useful

and conducive to an end? No one will deny

that, in point of fact, the eyelids with their lashes

serve to protect the eye; that the hides of beasts,

by their firmness, act as a guard against heat and

cold; that the legs serve to support the body.

But every one can see that explanations of this

kind are quite out of place in physics; for the
physical question is not “ What is the use of
eyelashes?” but “Why do hairs grow on this
particular spot?” ‘ Pilosity is incident to the ori-

fices of moisture” — such is the physical answer.
Manifestly it is not the end or aim of moisture to
provide an expedient for the protection of the

eyes. Just as little does cold, when it contracts

the pores of the skin, and then causes its hard-

ness, purpose to protect animals against the in-
fluences of temperature. The physical explana-

tions are yery different from the teleological. But
83

262 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

are they therefore contradictory? Does the cause
prevent its effect from being useful for some pur-
pose foreign to the cause? ‘Till we convert the
use of the effect into its cause, no confusion arises.
It is against this confusion that Bacon directs his
efforts; to throw a light upon the subject, he
separates (what should not have been combined)
the causa efficiens from the causa finalis, the me-
chanical from the teleological interpretation of
things, physics from metaphysics. The former
show a nature conformed to laws, the latter a
nature conformed to certain ends. The latter
ultimately points to a fore-seeing intelligence that
with wise economy guides and orders the blind
operation of the natural powers; and thus meta-
physics afford a prospect, the further pursuit of
which is left to natural theology. Thus is natural
theology based upon metaphysics, as metaphysics
upon physics, and physics upon natural history.

2. PRACTICAL NATURAL PHILOSOPHY

Is divided into mechanics and natural magic.
The former are practical physics, the latter prac-
tical metaphysics or the applied theory of natural
forms. Bacon under this head misses both theory
and practice; he mentions a natural magic, as he
has already mentioned a “sane astrology,” as a
desideratum. He wished to distinguish the latter

7

NATURAL MAGIC. — 263

from superstitious astrology, and in the same
manner he distinguishes natural magic from the
ordinary and frivolous sort, with which he classes
alchemy and other dreams that have amused
mankind from the earliest ages. Bacon very
often speaks of the alchemists, especially when
he means to give an example of the ordinary
empirists with their uncritical and unmethodical
way of proceeding. Without having themselves
pursued a scientific object, they have paved the
way to physics and chemistry by means of their
researches. Bacon ingeniously compares them
with those sons in the fable, whose father be-
queathed them a treasure in the vineyard for
which they had to seek. They dug round the
vineyard without finding the gold, but by their
researches they had tilled the fertile soil, and the
harvest proved to be the promised treasure.
Natural magic, in Bacon’s sense of the word,

|

|

:

is the application of the knowledge of nature. |

Granted that we have learned the forms of
nature, the qualities of bodies and their ultimate
conditions, the possibility arises, as far as theory
is concerned, of producing these qualities our-
selves, and operating creatively like nature. If
now to the theoretic is added the practical possi-
bility—namely, material means—as the necessary

vehicles of effectiveness, natural miracles, as it
s4

264 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

were, will be the result. We need not decide
(according to Bacon) whether what the alchemists
sought was attainable or not; at all events their
method was wrong. Before we try to make gold
we must become acquainted with the natural
forms of gold, and all the conditions upon which
these qualities infallibly appear. The triumphs
of mechanical and chemical invention in our own
times accomplish and at the same time explain
the problems which Bacon conceived under the
name of natural magic, and recommended to the
future. “ When magic,” says Bacon, “ is com-
bined with science, this natural magic will ac-
complish deeds that will bear to the earlier super-
stitious experiments the same relation that the
real acts of Cesar bear to the imaginary ex-
ploits of King Arthur; that is to say, they will
be as deeds to tales, where more is done by the
former than dreamed in the latter.” *

As aids to inventive natural science, Bacon
desires a history of human discoveries, which
shall render especially prominent all that has
appeared impossible to man; and also, for con-~
venient survey, a list of useful experiments (ca-
talogus polychrestorum).

* This passage is not to be found in Bacon as it stands here,
but it is formed from expressions in “ De Augmentis,” IIT. 5.,
which also occur in the “ Advancement.”—J. Q.

MATHEMATICS. 265

38. MATHEMATICS,

With Bacon, do not form an independent but a
supplementary science ; they are an aid to natural
philosophy. Pure mathematics consist of geo-
metry and arithmetic, the knowledge of figures
and numbers, of continuous and discrete quan-
tities, —in a word, they are the knowledge of
nature or of abstract quantity. But quantity is
among the forms of nature; therefore mathe-
matics (in Bacon’s sense of the word) belong to
the knowledge of natural forms, that is, to
metaphysics. Their scientific value lies in their
contribution to the interpretation of nature.
Their position is similar to that which Bacon
assigns to logic. Both are subordinate to natural
philosophy, from which both have unjustifiably
separated themselves, so as to assume an inde-
pendent rank of their own. Both, therefore,
must be so connected anew with the physical
sciences as to become mere aids to the latter.
Thus we have a striking illustration of the
difference between the Baconian and the Greek
mode of thought. The forms of the Platonic
metaphysics were ideals or antitypes, those of the
Baconian metaphysics are powers. Plato con-
sidered mathematics the portico of metaphysics 5

aad

266 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

Bacon regarded them as a mere aid and ap-
pendix.

IV. ANTHROPOLOGY,

As the science of man, in the more extended
sense of the word, embraces everything human.
It treats of human nature and human society,
whence it may be divided into psychology and
politics. Before it enters upon the separate
divisions of human nature, it regards their un-
divided unity from two points of view.

In the first place it estimates the condition of
humanity, with respect to its dignity and indignity,
its greatness and its wretchedness, its bright and
shadowy sides. A description of the latter is not
set down by Bacon among his desiderata ; on the
contrary, he finds that human misery is sufficiently
illustrated by a copious literature of philosophical
and theological writings, and, as it seems, has no
desire to increase such “ sweet and wholesome ” *
recreation. He would rather, like Hiero (accord-
ing to Pindar) pluck the blossoms of human
virtue, and introduce the science of man with
a description of what is great in humanity, con-
firmed by examples from history. He would
decorate the porch of anthropology with statues

* “ Res et dulcis simul et salubris.”— De Augm. IV. 1., p. 581.

PHYSIOGNOMY. | 267

of the “summities” of the human race. Every
great deed effected by the power of the human
mind and the human will, as manifested in the
heroes of every time and tendency, should here
be brought before us by abundant examples.

The second point of view, which is more inti-
mately connected with anthropology, refers to the
unity of the human individual, to the relation
between the soul and the body, as a consequence
of which the soul expresses itself by means of the
body, while the body reacts by impressions upon
the soul. With reference to the body, considered
as an expression of the soul, Bacon here gives
the idea of a physiognomy—a science that,
towards the end of the following century, was
elaborated in such a surprising manner by
Lavater. Bacon approximates closely to La-
vater’s system. He desires a new physiognomy,
based upon real facts and observations, without
chiromantic dreams or anything of the sort.
Aristotle’s notion of physiognomy was very im-
perfect. Not only are the peculiarities of the
soul expressed in the fixed lineaments of the
body, but still more are the’ inclinations and
passions expressed by the gestures, by the mov-
able parts of the human face, especially the
mouth. ‘Thus expressions that have become habi-
tual and permanent in the countenance furnish

268 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

the plainest index of the soul and its inclina-
tions, being, as it were, the involuntary language
of the soul. This language, according to Bacon,
it is the office of true physiognomy to decipher
and to solve. In dreams, too, Bacon discovered
a secret correspondence between the soul and the
body; he despises the pretensions of ordinary
interpreters of dreams, but he shows how cer-
tain states of the body correspond to certain
dreams, and vice versa.*

1. PHYSIOLOGY,

Applied to human life, appears to Bacon less a
science than an art, the object of which is cor-
poreal well-being, with respect to health, beauty,
strength, and enjoyment. This technical or prac-
tical science of the human body may be divided
accordingly into medicine, “ cosmetique,” ‘ ath-
letique,” and “art voluptuary.” Among the
means of producing sensual gratification Bacon
enumerates the arts that delight the eye and the
ear, as painting and music. This view of the
fine arts was as unsatisfactory and unexalted as
his view of poetry; and the esthetical theories
that followed in the same direction merely
elaborated the view, so as to render it clear and
better defined, but scarcely elevated it at all.

* “De Augmentis,” [V. 1., p. 584.

MEDICAL SCIENCE. 269

Bacon is chiefly interested about medicine, as
the science that most contributes or ought to
contribute to the corporeal benefit of man. He
sees plainly enough that the sister of this useful
science is quackery, just as Circe was the sister
of Aisculapius. From this relationship he would
free medicine. With respect to all the sciences
he reflects how they are to be purified from their
vain and superstitious dross, and by the removal
of the morbid material be rendered intellectually
sound. This was his purpose in the cases of
astrology, magic, and physiology, and now he has
the same design with regard to medicine. This
science should preserve health, heal sickness,
lengthen life, and is therefore to be divided into
diztetics, pathology, and macrobiotics. To the
last, which he misses among the medical sciences
of his day, he attaches the greatest importance,
proposing the problem which, among the Germans,
Hufeland endeavoured to solve. For the ad-
vancement of pathology Bacon desires an accurate
history of diseases, comparative anatomy, and —
in the interests of science — vivisection. It seems
to him a great mark of over-precipitancy and care-
lessness that science has, without further inquiry,
pronounced so many diseases incurable. If death
is not to be prevented, physicians should never-
theless take pains to render it easier. The allevia-

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270 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

tion of the pains of death, that gentle decease,
which Bacon styles our “ external euthanasia,” *
is proposed by him as a special problem for
medical science.

2. PSYCHOLOGY

Refers to the human soul considered apart, and
isyoceupied with its nature and powers. Bacon

ef snudistinguishes the soul, with respect to its sub-
» adn stances, into the sensible and rational. The

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former is naturally produced, the latter’ super-
‘naturally inspired, imparted to man from without
by the Divine breath. In a similar manner
Aristotle made a distinction between the passive

and active intellect (vods ra@ntixos and trointuKos),

making the latter enter from without (Iv’paézv)

into man. Hence, with Bacon, the mind cannot
be explained on natural grounds, and conse-
quently the science of the mind does not belong
to psychology, but to theology, which, through
revelation, apprehends supernatural causes. Bacon
himself makes an admission, which is of the highest
importance to those who would form a judgment
of his philosophy; namely, that it is incapable of
explaining the mind. We may add that this
incapability, which is here rightly attributed to

* “Euthanasia exterior.”— De Augm. IV. 1., p. 595.

DUALISM OF BACON. | 271

the Baconian philosophy, may be extended to
realistic philosophy in general. Bacon does not
deny the mind.* To deny the mind dogmatically,
Bacon had too much mind himself, and too little
self-denial. But, in a few words, he declares that
the mind is incomprehensible; he transfers the
idea of mind from the sphere of science into that

of religion, with which science holds no com-_

munication; he makes between the sensible and
rational soul a hiatus, which, by his own avowal,

he is compelled to make. Thus with Bacon the

mind is an inexplicable, and the soulf is a
corporeal substance, which has its local seat in
the brain, and is only invisible on account of its
subtlety; the mind is referred to the Deity,
the soul to the body. Thus, as far as spirit
(or mind) and body —the Deity and the world
— are concerned, Bacon entertains a dualism
similar to that of Descartes. But science,
which is ever impelled to search for explanations,
and everywhere endeavours to find the con-
nection and unity of phenomena, instinctively
resists dualism in whatever shape it may appear.
Hence the following philosophy, which was

* i.e, as a spiritual substance. —J. O.

+ The words ‘‘ mind ” (geist) and “soul” (seele) are here used
as equivalents for the “ Anima rationalis” and “ Anima irra-
tionalis” of Bacon.—J. O.

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272 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

based upon Bacon, sought to get rid of that
dualism which Bacon had bequeathed. To remain
trife to the principles of Bacon, and to avoid
dualism in the interests of realistic thought, it

.was necessary either to deny the existence of that
| mind that could not be explained, or — what is

the same thing —to declare that it was a cor-
poreal substance together with the soul. Thus
the Baconian philosophy, as soon as it revolted
against its original dualism, necessarily took a
direction towards materialism, analogous to the
movement of Cartesianism towards Spinozism.
Even Locke admitted that the mind was perhaps
a corporeal substance; and others, who followed
him (especially in France), made of that “ per-
haps” an exclusive dogma. As soon as the
Baconian philosophy resigned itself to the limits
of a narrow dogmatic system, and, for the sake
of consistency, contracted its sphere of vision,
it necessarily hastened nearer to materialism at
every step. As the Cartesian philosophy, when
it abandons its dualism, is compelled to become
pantheistic, so, with equal necessity, does the
Baconian philosophy, when it abandons its dualism
become materialistic.

The Baconian philosophy investigates the facul-
ties of the sensible soul, and divides its functions
into voluntary motion and sensation. But Bacon

BACON AND LEIBNITZ. 273

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distinguishes the faculty of sense from that offs... =

perception, which he ascribes to all bodies, and’)

which is a power similar to the soul, and inherent; ie
in every nature. Bacon is manifestly thinking
of the analogy between the animate and inani-
mate phenomena of nature, when he regards
perception as a faculty everywhere present as
distinguished from psychic sensation. On no
other occasion does Bacon seem to speak so much
in the spirit of Leibnitz. For Leibnitz has
placed the analogy of all beings,—that funda-
mental thought of his philosophy,—in the “ Prin-
cipium Perceptivum,” and distinguished this om-
nipresent power of perception from sensation
and consciousness. However, Leibnitz’s idea of
perception is much more elaborated and more
thoroughly carried out than Bacon’s. Leibnitz
referred to that energy directed towards a certain
end* (and therefore including the faculty of
representation), which is inherent in every indi-
viduality, while Bacon by the word “ perceptio”
merely meant what is left of perception after the
deduction of sensation—that is to say, mere recep-
tivity — that disposition of a body that renders it

* This long periphrasis represents “Zweckthitige Kraft.”
Though the teleological view of science is eminently popular in
England, our language is strangely deficient in words having
reference to final causes.—J. O.

T

274 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

capable of definite impressions, the peculiar
faculty of attraction and repulsion. A _percep-
tion of this kind is found, for example, in the
magnet that attracts the iron, in the flame that
darts toward the naphtha, in the air that is toa
far higher degree susceptible of warmth and cold
than the human organisation, in chemical affini-
ties, &c. To all these peculiar utterances of
body Bacon saw analogies in the phenomena of
life, and therefore he designated their receptivity
asa species of perception. His intuitive view
of nature was more lively than his philosophy
and the physical ideas belonging to it. The
tendency of the latter was rather to give a
mechanical explanation of the living than to
perceive powers either living or resembling life
in the mechanical phenomena of nature. In
Bacon’s intuitive views it is obvious that his mind
does not rigidly follow the course prescribed by
the compass of his method, but declines in
another and an earlier direction, which had for him
an involuntary power of attraction. This direc-
tion was that of the Italian philosophy of na-
ture, which had revived hylozoism, — the living
view of nature taken by the Greeks. In the
idea of an eternally living matter, the Italian
philosophers, as Bacon thought, came into con-
tact with the Greeks — Telesius with Parme-

THE ITALIAN PHILOSOPHERS. 275

nides and Democritus. Here also Bacon him-
self was in contact with the physical spirit of his
immediate predecessors. Everywhere open to
the future, his philosophy was not entirely closed
against the past. In some passages the natural
philosophy of the Italians shines with its poetical
twilight into that of Bacon; and an accurate
knowledge of the relation of Bacon to his Italian
predecessors would amply repay a special investi-
gation. But for this purpose the point of view
must be taken within the sphere of the Italian
natural philosophy, upon which we cannot enlarge
here. We content ourselves with the cursory
remark that a congenial description of the transi-
tion period between the scholastic age and
modern times is yet a desideratum. What has
hitherto been written on this subject scarcely
reaches the surface of the matter,

The faculties of the human soul are the under-
standing and the will, with their different species.
Would we know the use and objects of these
faculties, our instructor with regard to the un-
derstanding is logic, —with regard to the will,
ethics. Logic and ethics are therefore branches
of psychology.*

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3. LOGIC,

As the science that teaches the right use of the
understanding, has as many parts as the under-
standing has functions. Its office is so to under-
stand and represent things, that they become
intelligible to others. We learn to understand
things when we discern what is previously un-
known, retain and judge what is known. Thus
invention, judgment, retention, and “tradition”
are the functions of the understanding, and into
so many parts is logic divided. Invention and
judgment belong to the understanding, properly so
called, retention to the memory, “ tradition” to
discourse oral and written. The art of thinking
—that is, of inventing and judging—is logic,
properly so called; the art of memory is termed
mnemonics, the art of discourse rhetoric.

The inventive understanding is the proper or-

-gan of science. On the right use of this faculty
_rests all the weal, and on its neglect all the woe,
of science. Inventive logic is, therefore, in the

(v

~ eyes of Bacon, the great art which he misses,

Lin

and therefore places above all others among the
desiderata of his new philosophy. Here is the
point where his “ Encyclopedia” and his * Novum
Organum” come into the closest contact; for

the “ Novum Organum” is, in fact, neither more
kee

THE “HUNT OF PAN.” 277

nor less than the new logic, which is here men-
tioned as a desideratum. Invention presupposes ex-
perience or induction, but the experience which
had been in vogue till Bacon’s time, and which
he calls dialectical, was unfitted for this pur-
pose, inasmuch as it neither investigated things
thoroughly, nor carefully noted negative in-
stances. Experimental experience is alone fruit- ,
ful, and this is twofold; either it confines itself
to experimental details, or it ascends from the
experiment to general laws. In the former case)
he calls it “ Experientia literata;” in the latter,
“ Interpretatio nature.” The ‘ Experientia lite-
rata” consists in this:—that a number of experi-
ments are made, that every one of them is
varied in every possible way, sometimes with
additions, sometimes with omissions; and that, in
the case of every modification, the new results are
observed and described. Such a mode of ex-
perience is neither regular in its course, nor is it
directed to any definite end; it takes various
directions, and everywhere searches out natural
phenomena like a hunter in. pursuit of game,
not like a scientific investigator engaged in the
deduction of general laws. ‘This searching and
describing experience is therefore termed by
Bacon the “hunt of Pan;” the other kind,

which makes use of experiments for the disco-
Tt 3

278 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

very of laws, he terms the “Interpretatio na-
ture.” And this latter kind he thinks he has
set forth in his “ Novum Organum.”

The form of the judging understanding is
either induction or syllogism. The inductive
judgment belongs to inventive logic, syllogism is
the form of proof. Syllogistic science comprises
the arts of proving and refuting; of which the
former teaches the correct form of argument, the
latter the means to be employed against sophistry.
The first part of scientific art consists of “ Ana-
lyties,” the other treats of “ Elenchi.” Under
the latter head Bacon includes false proofs or
sophisms — ambiguous definitions — and the fal-
lacies or idols, the refutation of which is the first
problem of the “ Novum Organum.”

Mnemonic art is the discipline of the memory.
To retain transient notions, certain points must be
found of which the memory can, as it were, lay
hold, and the discovery of these is the object of
this particular art. To discern such artificial
means we have only to observe what means we
involuntarily apply to strengthen and retain the
impressions we have received. We write down
the matter in question, and thus fix it in space
for our external contemplation, placing it before
our eyes in a tabular form easy of survey, and so
endowing it with visible shape. Such an image

ART OF MEMORY. 279

is well fitted to make an impression on the
memory, and to guide the understanding.* Con-
formably to this natural point of view he treats
mnemonic art. He would assist the memory by
means of the imagination, or — what is the same
thing — he would convert notions into emblems,
and in this shape consign them to the memory,
in the same manner.as, according to his view, the
wisdom of the ancients was impressed upon the
ordinary understanding by means of myths and
parables, — that is to say, of emblems; he would
consign intellectual notions generally to the
memory in the shape of sensible images. But
images belong to the imagination, not to the
memory, which only retains notions in the ab-
stract symbols of words and numbers. If, for
instance, as Bacon suggests, we endeavour to
retain the notion of invention by connecting it
with the image of a hunter, or that of order by
means of the figure of an apothecary arranging
his boxes, these notions are presented not through
the memory, but through the imagination. In

* A passage occurs here, which, as it can be intelligible to
German readers only, referring, as it does, to a German idiom, I
have omitted from the text. It is as follows :—‘* Wir sagen
sehr gut vom Gediichtnisse, dass es die Dinge awswendig wisse,
d. h. es besitzt die Begriffe in Zeichen, denn das Zeichen ist der
auswendige (aiisserlich gemachte) Begriff.’ As the English
equivalent to “ auswendig wissen ” is “ to know by heart,” trans-

lation is impossible-—J. O.
T 4

280 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

a similar manner mnemonic art was cultivated
by the ancients, and also in the last century by
Kistner.

The objects of rhetoric are merely indicated by
Bacon, who points out the structure of discourse,
the science of language and comparative grammar,
the method of teaching, and the art of speaking.
Its appendices are criticism and pedagogy.*

4. ETHICS

Treat of the human will, as logic of the human
thought, and from the same practical point of
view. If the latter taught the art of judgment
and invention, the former teachsthe art of ac-
jtion. Ancient ethics regarded the object of
action more than action itself, teaching what was
good, and in what the highest good and human
happiness consist; but less explaining how an
action is good, and how by a good action happi-
ness is attained. In this kind of ethics there
was more of rhetoric than of moral instruction,
and it was of no more use than a writing-master
who sets us copies, but does not guide our hand
or teach us how to imitate them. The Baconian
ethics are to stand in the same relation to those
that preceded, as an able teacher of writing to

* For the subjects of the above section compare De Augm.
Scient. V., VI.

PRACTICAL ETHICS. 281

a mere calligrapher. Their object is practical
utility, —the good, in the practical sense of the
word. This practical moral doctrine will not,
indeed, appear nearly so dazzling and so sublime
as the preceding moral systems, with their high-
flying reflections on the highest good and the
highest happiness, but it will be much more
useful, and approximate more closely to human
nature ; for it will treat of the materials of human
action, and penetrate them as corporeal matter is
penetrated by physics. Here Bacon makes the
noble confession, that in what he leaves to pos-
terity he will purposely disregard the lustre of
his name and of his knowledge, and contemplate
the good of humanity alone. The useful should
be conjoined with the sublime, just as Virgil* not
only describes the deeds of A®neas, but incul-
cates the precepts of agriculture. True science
must be able to say with Demosthenes: “If you
do these things you will not merely praise the
orator, but yourselves also through the speedy
improvement of your affairs.” +

What is good? Let us be content to give a

* Bacon illustrates this remark with the quotation —
“Nec sum animi dubius, verbis ea vincere magnum
Quam sit, et angustis hunc addere rebus honorem.”
Georg. III. 289.— J. O.
t At the conclusion of the Second Olynthiac.— J. O.

282 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
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relative answer to this question. That is good
which is useful to man,—both to individuals
‘and to humanity in general. There is an indi-
ner vidual and a common good, ‘That which benefits
eal society is generally useful, and on this Bacon
lays especial stress. Inasmuch as the whole is

greater than a part, and society more powerful

than an individual, the generally useful deserves

the preference above individual interests. In

Bacon’s opinion the Greek philosophers, more

| particulary Aristotle, did not sufficiently appre-

\ciate the worth of general utility, and therefore

placed theoretical above practical life. A life
‘devoted to the common welfare must be prac-

tical, and so direct all its theoretical efforts as
to make them generally useful. Action of
general utility is the highest of human duties,
which, according to the different spheres of life
to which they belong, and the extent of them,
may be divided into universal and_ particular.
To the latter belong the duties of one’s office or
vocation, those connected with family, friend-
ship, &c. From this diversity of duties cases of
collision or opposition may arise, which Bacon
would solve by making the particular subordinate
to the general duty ; so that in all cases the final
decision may be given by the generally useful.
Virtue consists of the exercise of duty, for which

ABSTRACT ETHICS, 283

the soul should be fitted, and it is this training of
the soul that is the true purpose of ethics.

But to effect this purpose, one thing, in which
moral science has hitherto been deficient, is re-
quisite—a practical knowledge of man. We
cannot render man moral at a single blow, by rhe-
torical exhortation and diffuse praises of virtue,
nor can we make every one moral in the same
manner. The ethical teacher must make him-
self acquainted with mankind, and study the
peculiarities of the soul as carefully as physi-
cians study those of the body. Neither in morals
nor in medicine is there any panacea. ‘The
landowner ought to know the different qualities
of the soil, inasmuch as it is impossible to plant
everything everywhere; and, in like manner, the
physician ought to be informed of the different
constitutions of the human body, which are as
many, and as various as the individuals themselves;
and the ethical teacher must learn the different
mental qualities, which are just as numerous as
bodily constitutions. In the ethics hitherto taught
Bacon misses this foundation of practical know-
ledge, without which moral science is vague and
sterile, composed of mere abstract principles, and
suited to—not a real but—an abstract man.
Such ethics produce idols, that are only fitted
for idols. They apply their remedies to all persons

284 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

alike, without distinguishing their peculiarities,
and are therefore guilty of the same quackery as
those physicians who prescribe the same drugs
for all their patients, whatever difference of con-
stitution may exist among them.*

Ethical science cannot make men of a nature
different from that of which they are made already,
any more than physical science can make nature
or alter the elementary matter of bodies. Physics
require a knowledge of nature, ethics a knowledge
of mankind. Physics, on the basis of a knowledge
of nature, seek the means of making new inven-
tions and of advancing the physical welfare of
mankind; ethics, on the basis of a knowledge of
mankind, seek to promote moral welfare and to
cultivate virtue in the sense of general utility.
Ethics, therefore, may be divided into the doc-
trine of characters, and the doctrine of remedies
or moral expedients. Ethical science may make
a choice among the latter, but men and their
peculiarities are given to it as objects of contem-
plation and study. In every individual specimen
of humanity there is an original disposition
( Gemiithsart) or tendency of the will, and certain
motive powers that impel the will, and (to make
use of a Baconian expression) are to the human
mind what tempests are to the sea. The original

* Compare De Augm. Scient. VII. 3.

CHARACTER. 285

disposition is called by Bacon the “ character ;”
the motive powers that act like storms upon the
soul, are the passions and affections. To learn
mankind is to study the characters and passions
of men. Here Bacon takes the same view of
ethics that Shakspeare takes of dramatic poetry.
That we may become acquainted with human
character Bacon directs us to the source. from
which Shakspeare has derived his dramas — to
the historians and the poets, especially the Roman,
one of whom he especially upholds as the greatest
of all historians and describers of character,
namely, Tacitus, as represented by his description
of Tiberius, Claudius, and Nero.

Every human character is a product of the
internal natural foundation and of external cir-
cumstances, and there is as great a diversity
among characters as there is variety in their
factors. Every individual is sui generis. The
passions stir the soul and drive it out of the
routine of generally useful and temperate action.
Here is presented that great spectacle of human
vicissitudes which is grasped by the imagination
of the dramatic poet, and which no one has more
deeply studied or more faithfully represented
than Shakspeare. Here, too, does ethical science
find its practical task. It should bring passions
so under the dominion of reason that they may

a

286 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

not go astray; and this task is accomplished by
restraining the passions and reducing them to a
condition of natural equilibrium, in which they
operate as checks upon each other. Like a cau-
tious physician it seeks to approach nature by a
natural path, opposing the unfettered with a
restraining force, and, as it were, the first with
asecond nature. This second nature is custom
(consuetudo), the power of which, in opposition to
the opinion of Aristotle, is especially extolled by
Bacon. The most potent moral remedy is to be

» ¢ found in custom. To attain a natural equilibrium

the soul should incline to the side that is adverse
to its ruling passions, and pursue this tendency
till it has become a habit. Thus a crooked stick,
if bent with caution, will become straight.

The moral state contemplated by Bacon is to
be found, as with Aristotle, in the medium or
point of indifference between opposite passions.
It is mental calmness reduced to a habit, an ac~
quired indifference to the power of the affections.*
This ethical state appears to be a copy of Bacon’s
own moral disposition, which did not require to
be weaned from violent passions, but had received
at first from the hand of nature that, equilibrium

* Of course this word is to be understood rather in the sense
of the Latin “affectus” than according to its conventional
acceptation.— J. O.

POLITICAL SCIENCE. 287

which most persons can only acquire by force of
habit. It is, however, obvious enough that the
Baconian ethics are sketched altogether in the
spirit of modern philosophy, contemplating man-
kind as the Baconian professor of physical science
contemplates natural bodies. They are based
upon knowledge of mankind, which is wholly
derived from the observation of individuals, at-
tained by experience and confirmed by in-
duction.

5. POLITICS

Are ethics applied to state affairs. If ethics,
strictly so called, teach the art of morally culti-
vating mankind, political science teaches that

of guiding the state or the multitude to ends of
general utility. It is, in fact, the art of govern-
ment. Bacon considers the task of politics lighter
than that of ethics, inasmuch as it is harder to
lead an individual than a multitude. Herein he
agrees with Cato, the censor*, who used to
say of the Romans, that they were like sheep, of
which a whole flock can more easily be driven
than a single one; for, if only a few are brought
into the right path, the rest will follow of their
own accord. Prudence is in politics what virtue
is in ethics. However, Bacon refrains inten-

* Vide “ Plutarch.”—J. O.

288 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

tionally from conducting us into the arcana of poli-
tical art, and even declares to us, at the beginning
of his first chapter on this subject*, that he has
overlooked one art, which he will now show by
his own example; and that is the art of silence.
Here he follows the precedent of Cicero, who
once wrote to Atticus—‘“On this occasion I
have borrowed somewhat of your eloquence, for
I have kept silent.”t Nay, it becomes him espe-
cially, as a statesman high in office, to be silent
on political affairs. This declaration proves that
Bacon does not regard politics with the eye of a
savant, as a doctrine to be taught, but contem-
plates it with the eye of a statesman, as a prac-
tical art that must adapt itself to circumstances.
He only teaches it externally. In his doctrine
concerning prudence in ordinary affairs (Prudentia
Negotiandi), and in what he says respecting the
extension of dominion (De Proferendis Finibus
Imperit), he teaches the policy of every-day life,
and the means of extending the national power.t
From these few remarks we plainly see that his
political models were the Romans and Macchia-
velli. With respect to the latter Bacon was of
opinion that he was the first among the moderns

* De Augm. Scient. VIIL 1.

t “Hoc loco ego sumsi quiddam de tua eloquentia, nam

tacui.”— Epist. ad Att, xiii. 42.
{ Compare De Augm. Scient. VILL 3.

POLITICS. 289

who had once more begun to think and to write
politically. However he himself did not wish to
exhibit politics as they appear on the eminence
contemplated by the statesman, but as they
appear on the broad plain of ordinary life; he did
not wish to show how the king and the statesman,
but how everybody must be politic. Thus he
treated only of prudence in politics, of the policy
of all the world, not of rulers in particular.
Occasionally, indeed, he made reference to the
great Florentine ; but, for his own part, he rather
chose to interpret the Proverbs of Solomon for
the behoof of every-day wisdom than to reveal

the secrets of high policy and the royal art of
government.

290 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

CHAP. X.

THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY IN ITS RELATION TO RELIGION.

PHILOSOPHY, in Bacon’s sense of the word, was
the knowledge of things from natural causes,
which causes were distinguished by Bacon him-
self into efficient and final. Thus natural philo-
sophy was divided into physics and metaphysics ;
the latter forming, as it were, the foundation of
natural theology. For the perception of final
causes in nature shows us a world regulated for
certain ends, and such a world cannot be con-
ceived without a regulating Intelligence. Now
natural theology is the image of the Deity as the
creative Regulator of the world, and faith in such
a Deity is a scientific necessity. That disbelief
which is in opposition to it—or Atheism — is
scientifically impossible. “It is easier,” says Ba-
con, “to believe the most absurd fables of the
Koran, the Talmud, and the Legends, than to
believe that the world was made without under-
standing. Hence God has wrought no miracles for
the refutation of Atheism, because, to this end, his
regular works in nature are sufficient.” *
* Essay “On Atheism,”

NATURAL THEOLOGY. 291

Thus, natural theology in the sense of Bacon,
is but the faith that there is a Divine Intelli-
gence in the world,—that the Deity is manifest
in the regulated course of nature. This theology
does not transcend the horizon of natural causes;
the boundary of this horizon is likewise the limit
of philosophy. Within this sphere nothing is
known of the supernatural essence of the Deity, of
His decrees for the benefit of man; consequently
nothing of religion, the science of which lies
beyond nature, — nothing of the kingdom of
grace, the science of which must be sought in
religion. Religion is based on the superna-
tural revelation of the Deity, and the knowledge
pertaining to it consists in revealed theology.
Natural theology belongs to philosophy, revealed
theology to religion. As the limit of natural
causes is likewise the limit of the human under-
standing, there is an insurmountable barrier be-
tween philosophy and religion. Hence natural
theology affects no mediation, but stands alto-
gether within the region of philosophy. It cer-
tainly affords no support to religion, according
to Bacon; nay, it is doubtful how far it is it-
self really supported by philosophy, for passages
occur in which mention is made of natural phi-
losophy as an element foreign to philosophy.

Two points therefore are established. First,
- U2

292 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

Religion — such as alone is worthy of the name
—is not based upon natural knowledge; in this
sense there is no such thing as natural religion.
Secondly, a scientific knowledge of religious
truths is impossible; in this sense there is no
such thing as a philosophy of religion.* To pass
from philosophy into religion, we must step out
of the boat of science, in which we have circum-
navigated the old and new world, into the ship of
the Church, and there receive the divine revela-
tions as positively as they are given.t Bacon has
said that a drop from the cup of philosophy leads
to Atheism, but a full draught to religion. By
this expression he could only refer to natural
religion, which in fact forms merely a section of
philosophy (if, indeed, it has any firm basis at all),
and has nothing to do with revelation. As for
the latter, Bacon does not tell us that the boat of
science takes us into the ship of the Church, but
that we must get out of one and into the other,
if we would participate in religious truth. <As
between mind and body, so is there between the
Deity and the World — according to Bacon—an
insoluble Dualism.

. Theology and religion are with Bacon synonymous, Hence
he gives the name of natural religion to natural theology. To
avoid ambiguity of expression we shall only use the word

religion in the sense of revealed religion.— Author’s Note,
_ JT Compare “De Augm.” IX.

-REASON AND FAITH, 293

I. Tue SEPARATION BETWEEN REASON AND THE
FaitH In ReveLation.

BACON AND TERTULLIAN,

Tus Dualism establishes a separation between
religion and philosophy, that excludes all inter-
communication and reciprocal influence. Philo-
sophy within the sphere of religion is infidelity ;
religion within the sphere of philosophy is fan-
tastic. From the Baconian point of view reli-
gious faith can neither be self-appropriated nor
believed by human reason; it will not tole-
rate any rational criticism, but demands a blind
acceptance of the divine decrees that have been
revealed. To human reason, these revelations,
divine in their origin, are impenetrable mysteries.
The opposition of our own will does not weaken
the stringency of the divine decrees; neither does
the contradiction of our reason lessen the credi-
bility of the divine revelations. Rather, indeed,
does this very contradiction confirm the divinity
of their origin. We are the more bound to
accept the divine revelations the less they are com-
prehensible by our reason; the “ more the divine
mystery is contrary to reason, the more must it be
believed for the honour of God.”* Repugnance

* Compare “De Augm.” IX. 1,
u3

294 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

to reason, far from being a “ negative instance,”
with respect to faith, is, on the contrary, a “ posi-
tive instance ”—a, criterion of credibility. A
divine revelation must be believed, not although,
but because it is, in opposition to human reason.
Religious faith is not to stand behind, but be-
yond science, on a totally different basis; it must
be unconditional, without rational ground, with-
out logical aid, and therefore to all intents and
purposes a blind faith. Thus, even in the sphere
of theology, Bacon is thoroughly anti-scholastic.
Scholasticism is a speculative theology, a con-
struction of the articles of faith according to the
laws of the understanding, a logical bulwark of
the Church. This bulwark is destroyed by Ba-
con in the case both of philosophy and of reli-
gion. Philosophy must not raise it, theology
must not seek to fortify itself by such expe-
dients ; and by separating the two Bacon destroys
the scholastic spirit which had united them, or,
if we prefer the expression, jumbled them to-
gether. Indeed, he seems to revert to the pre-
scholastic faith, and to revive the maxim of Ter-
tullian—‘ Credo quia absurdum.” ‘* Christ, the
Son of God,” said Tertullian, “died; this I
believe, because it is repugnant to reason: he was
buried and rose from the dead; this is certain, for
it is impossible.” But between Tertullian and

BACON AND TERTULLIAN. 295

Bacon intervene the systems of Scholasticism, and
they are as different from each other as the ages
to which they belong. To the English philo-
sopher human reason did not appear so impotent
as to the Latin Father of the Church. The
same expression bears one meaning in the mouth
of a reformer of science, another in that of a
teacher of the early Church. The declaration of
Bacon in the last book, “ De Dignitate et Aug-
mentatione Scientiarum,” has manifestly another
sense from that of the same proposition when
uttered by Tertullian in his treatise “* De Carne
Christi.” Bacon has in the background the “ Dig-
nitas Scientiarum,” which he has defended with so
much zeal, and enriched with so many treasures.
But this “ Dignitas Scientiarum” is far from being
acknowledged by Tertullian; or, we may rather
say, he acknowledges the direct contrary —namely,
the worthlessness of science and the impotence of
human reason. Tertullian’s proposition is simple;
Bacon’s conveys two meanings. They have one
interest in common; they wish to have no ra-
tionalising faith, no intermixture of faith and
reason, of religion and philosophy, of revelation
and nature. For the sake of this interest both
grasp the paradox which declares that, in religion,
repugnance to reason increases credibility. In the

relation between faith and reason only three cases
U4

296 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

are possible, and of these one alone belongs to
the purists of faith, Either faith contradicts or
does not contradict reason; and, in the event
of contradiction, it contradicts with or without
the consent of reason. The first case is expressed
by the declaration, “I believe, because it is in
accordance with reason.” Here faith becomes a
rational dogma, for it has the testimony of reason.
The second case is expressed thus: “I believe,
although it is repugnant to reason.” Here faith
is a concession of the reason, by which it is
granted, and, as it were, permitted. Here reason
performs an act of self-denial for the sake of faith.
It resolves to believe with a heavy heart, saying,
“TI believe, Lord, help thou my unbelief.” From
this point of view faith would greatly prefer its
articles to be rational, as it would then deem
them all the more credible. Lastly, the third
case is expressed thus: ‘I believe, because it is
impossible.” Here faith not only renounces all
subservience to reason, but all alliance with it,
openly taking the opposite ground. and allowing
no objection. If, with Tertullian and Bacon,
we oppose faith to reason, and make repugnance
to reason a positive criterion of faith, this third
case remains alone possible. No other formula
can be applied by purism in faith to reason and
philosophy, Nevertheless, even this formula

BACON AND TERTULLIAN. ~ 297

is involuntarily allied with reason, and herein
consists the contradiction that produces its in-
trinsic impossibility. It cs an argument of the
reason ; it gives a ground for faith which, although
the opposite of reason, is a ground notwithstand-
ing; it cannot get rid of the “ quia,” but is itself
logic, while it precludes all logic! However, we
will be satisfied with the good intention, and
merely inquire whether the “Credo quia ab-
surdum” is as piously meant by Bacon as by
Tertullian.

Tertullian, when he made his declaration, had
only one purpose in view —the purity of faith.
He did not intend to confer a benefit on science,
for to him science was valueless. His proposition
was simple and had but one meaning. On the
other hand, Bacon, by his separation of faith and
reason, wished to secure the independence of
both; he wished to preserve doth from inter-
mixture, intending the independence of science,
no less than that of religion. Nay, we will go
further. Bacon desired the independence of
faith, because he preferred that of science; he
acted more for the sake of science than for that
of faith. His declaration carried with it a double
meaning. It can be interpreted to the advantage of
both faith and science, but it must be interpreted
more to the advantage of the latter. Science was

298 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

Bacon’s treasure, and where the treasure is there
will the heart be also. Did not he himself call
the dominion of man, based upon science, the
heavenly kingdom that he would open? His
interest in faith and science was divided; it had
two sides; if there was a preponderance any-
where, it was undoubtedly on the side of science.
And, in fact, there was such a preponderance.
No one who has made himself acquainted with
this knowledge-craving mind can doubt that its
true and involuntary interest was in science
alone; to science Bacon devoted the best portion
of his life, while the other portion was devoted
not to religion, but to state affairs. As far as his
inclinations were concerned, faith was of just as
much value to him as science to Tertullian. His
mind was no more theological than Tertullian’s
was physical. Now in this two-sided position
what is the relation of Bacon himself to religion ?

II. Bacon’s POSITION WITH REGARD TO RELIGION.

CONTRADICTION AND SOLUTION.

In solving this difficult and much-contested ques-
tion we take one fact as our guide — the har-
mony between the character and the philosophy
of Bacon. His own relation to religion is also

BACON AND RELIGION. 299

that of his philosophy. If it was once resolved
that religion and philosophy were to be com-
pletely separated, no other formula was left but
that which Bacon adopted in common with Ter-
tullian, and he was obliged to lay the stress of
faith upon repugnance to reason. Now, from
Bacon’s point of view, was this separation neces-
sary? There are three cases which express the
possible relation of philosophy to religion. Phi-
losophy, while acknowledging religion, has to
explain it,—this is the first and natural problem.
If it is unable to solve this problem, nothing is
left but a simple assertion that religion is incom-
prehensible: and here two ways are possible;
either philosophy must absolutely deny or abso-
lutely acknowledge the incomprehensible object ;
— either overthrow it altogether or leave it utterly
untouched. This is never done by scientific ex-
planation, which at once vindicates and criticises
its object.

The Baconian philosophy is incapable of ex-
plaining religion. It could neither comprehend
the creative imagination in art nor the essential
nature of the human mind. It is deficient in all
the organs required for an apprehension of re-
ligion -— that connection between the Divine and
the human mind. Religion is, in every case,
a relation, the two members of which are the

300 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

Deity and the mind of man. How can a rela~
tion be comprehended where there is no com-
prehension of its members? How can a_phi-
losophy, which admits of no knowledge except
through the medium of experimentalising ex-
perience, fathom the mind either in the Divine
or the human nature? To what experiment, to
what mechanical investigation, is the mind re-
vealed ? With respect to this point the Ba-
conian philosophy is aware of its own limit; it
is fully conscious that within its own sphere the
mind, God, and religion, are unfathomable ob-
jects. This clear and express conviction shows
that the Baconian philosophy understood itself
rightly in the person of its founder, and knew how
to restrain experience within due limits. Thus the
only choice left was between the rejection and
the acknowledgment of religion, and whichever
side it took, it was forced to embrace uncondi-
tionally ; it could not do otherwise than either
reject religion or allow it to remain just as it was.
To this inevitable dilemma is the Baconian phi-
losophy reduced through inevitable causes, and in
conformity with its scientific character it decides
in favour of unconditional acknowledgment. But
it is difficult, if not utterly impossible, to escape
from a necessary dilemma without any oscillation,
and to remain immovably on one side, especially

FALSE POSITION OF BACONISM. 301

with such a mobile philosophy as the Baconian.
Once involved in the dilemma between the un-
conditional acknowledgment and unconditional
rejection of religion, it involuntarily falls into a
sort of perpendicular movement which from the
positive resting-place of acknowledgment which
Bacon has seized, not unfrequently oscillates in
a negative direction. The contradictions that
are found in Bacon’s position with respect to
religion are nothing but movements within the
sphere of this dilemma, involuntary oscillations in
a situation that is in itself dubious. If we would
accurately define Bacon’s position with regard to
religion, we must formulise the contradiction in
which it was involved. The Baconian philosophy
acknowledged and affirmed the positive system of
faith, while it pursued its own course in an in-
dependent extra-religious direction; it restrained
an impulse to deny, but could not altogether
suppress it. Why then, it may be asked, did not
the Baconian philosophy express its Opposition to
religion without reserve, as was actually done by
most of Bacon’s successors? Why did it embrace
the side of acknowledgment, to which it could
scarcely adhere without internal repugnance and
open contradiction? In the negative position it
would have been more firm and more itself ;
why, then, did it choose the positive? The first

302 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

and likewise the common answer is, that Bacon,
from personal considerations, yielded to the autho-
rity of religion; that, under the show of apparent
acknowledgment, he concealed the anti-religious
character of his philosophy; that, in a word, his
position with regard to religion was hypocritical.
The first answer is not always the best; in this
case it is the worst that can be given, and like-
wise the least intelligible. It is worth while to at-
tempt a scientific explanation of the matter before
we unhesitatingly pronounce a moral condemna-
tion. One thing is obvious, that, if Bacon’s ac-
knowledgment of religion was mere hypocrisy,
he was one of the most silly and bungling of
hypocrites; for, that which the cloak should have
covered — namely, the discrepancy of his philo-
sophy to religion—was plainly revealed in many
places. Hypocrisy is the sign of a dishonest man;
hypocritical bungling is the sign of a fool. If one
of these characters can be associated with the
mind of Bacon, surely we cannot say the same
of the other.

1. THE THEORETICAL VIEW.

Bacon, forsooth, ought to have rejected reli-
gion, because he could not explain it! On the
same grounds he would have been compelled to

REASONS FOR THEISM. 303

deny the human mind and the existence of a
Deity ; for he himself acknowledges that his philo-
sophy is unable to explain even these. On the same
grounds he would have been compelled to deny
metaphysics and natural theology, for neither of
them is in accordance with the strictly physical
spirit of his philosophy. If Bacon would not allow
final causes — the mind and the Deity —to be taken
into consideration in the physical interpretation
of things, was he bound therefore to deny them?
Or if he affirmed the existence of those powers
which do not admit a physical explanation, was
this affirmation mere hypocrisy? If it was not,
why should the term be applied to his acknow-
ledgment of religion ?

Indeed, Bacon had in his natural, if not alto-
gether physical, explanation of the world, suffi-
cient grounds to acknowledge the existence of a
Deity. Here he discerned final causes of which
he could give no physical explanation, and of
which he could make no physical use, but which
on any empirical ground were just as little to be
denied. Physical science explains things as the
effects of blindly operating forces; it knows of no
laws but those of mechanical causality, but it can-
not deny that in their effects an arrangement made
for some final purpose is likewise manifest. It
leaves to metaphysics the task of finding forces

304. FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

that operate with a purpose for effects conform-
able to an end*, and to natural theology the
task of tracing back these forces to an Original
Power as the Creator of the universe. Bacon
himself has repeatedly declared that, in his eyes,
a thoroughly mechanical and atomistic philo-
sophy of nature, like the systems of Leucippus,
Democritus, and Epicurus, not only affords room
for a natural theology, but even requires and con-
firms one more than any other system, Atomism
rejects final causes from the explanation of nature,
but does not deny that there are ends in na-
ture itself. It is forced to acknowledge orderly
arrangements in nature which could not possibly
be deduced from the fortuitous motions of innu-
merable atoms. Rather is it compelled to re-
cognise an Intelligent Originator of the world, to
whom such arrangements are to be attributed.
So natural does this assumption appear to the
understanding of Bacon, that, rather than reject
it, he will agree to every possible superstition.
‘‘Even that school which is most accused of
atheism doth most demonstrate religion; that is
the school of Leucippus, and Democritus, and
Epicurus; for it is a thousand times more credible
that four mutable elements and one immutable

* “Fir die zweckmissigen Wirkungen die zweckthitigen
Krafte.”"—J. O.

NATURAL THEOLOGY. 305

fifth essence, duly and eternally placed, need no
God, than that an army of infinite small portions
or seeds unplaced, should have produced this order
and beauty without a Divine Marshal.”*

Thus even the natural explanation leads (through
metaphysics to natural theology, and thus) to the
discovery of a Divine power, that cannot be con-
ceived destitute of intellect and will. The Divine
power reveals itself in nature, the Divine will in
the ordinances of religion. And the acts of this
will are despotic ; that is to say, without explana-~
tory motive.t Ifthe many natural manifestations
of the Divine power transcend the explanations
of human reason, how much more incompre-
hensible are the ordinances and decrees of the
Divine will (Willkiihr), and how much more
inexplicable, therefore, is religion! But is it,
therefore, less worthy of acknowledgment? If
natural philosophy finds itself compelled to ac-
knowledge the Divine power, will it venture
to deny the Divine will (Willen) in religion?
Since in the Deity there can be no contradic-
tion between power and will, a disagreement be-
tween religion and philosophy seems, in the eyes

* Essay XVI. “ Of Atheism.”

Tt “Aus blosser grundloser Willkiihr.” I have allowed myself
a somewhat violent periphrasis in dealing with this untranslatable
expression.— J. O.

x

306 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

of Bacon, equally impossible.* At all events,
natural philosophy does not bring man into con-
tradiction with Divine revelation. ‘ It was not
that pure and immaculate natural science by
virtue of which Adam bestowed on things their
appropriate names, that gave occasion to the fall
of man; but that ambitious and imperious appetite
of moral science, judging of good and evil, with
the intent that man might revolt from God and
govern himself, was both the cause and means of
temptation.” f

I have thus merely proved that Bacon’s theore-
tical point of view did not prevent him from
acknowledging religion. I shall show, further,
that his practical point of view prevented him
from rejecting or assailing religion. Thus, by the
action of both sides, his position with regard to
religion is brought exactly to the level at which
we find it.

* Compare “ Noy. Org.” I. 89.

+ “ Neque enim pura illa et immaculata scientia naturalis, per
quam Adam nomina ex proprietate rebus imposuit, principium
aut occasionem lapsui dedit. Sed ambitiosa illa et imperativa
scientiz moralis, de bono et malo dijudicantis, cupiditas, ad hoc
ut Homo a Deo deficeret et sibi ipsi leges daret, ea demum
ratio atque modus tentationis fuit.”— General Pref. to the Inst.
Mag.

DISLIKE OF CONTROVERSY. 307

2. THE PRACTICAL VIEW.

Let the case be supposed (which, however, was
not the fact) that Bacon took a hostile position
with regard to religion, and made natural truth
the criterion of religious truth; what would have
been the consequence? Manifestly a war with
religion, a war with dogmas — that is to say, in
the eyes of Bacon, a war of words; one of those
useless disputations that had desolated the human
mind for ages, and alienated it from a healthy
contemplation of the world. Instead of aug
menting science Bacon would have augmented
religious controversy, and increased the poverty
of science, by a new instalment. Whoever has
become acquainted with the mind of Bacon must
know how much he was averse from all disputations
of the kind; how his whole nature was, in every
way, instinctively opposed to verbal discussions,
This one reason is sufficient to explain and vin-
dicate Bacon’s position with respect to religion.
He would not, at any price, be a religious con-
troversialist, and therefore, at any price, he was
compelled to take a pacific position with respect
to religion. He had to choose between a faith
sans phrase and the phrases of controversy.
Hence in his preference of the former there was

no hypocrisy, since on all accounts and on every
x 2

308 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

ground he wished to avoid the latter. We draw
our conclusion from the peculiar mind of Bacon;
in this the necessity of his pacific position with
regard to religion results from the impossibility
of its opposite. Those who are so ready with the
reproach of hypocrisy have not taken this into
consideration. Bacon wished to avoid all border
wars between faith and science; not only because
they would have been hazardous and incon-
venient, but because he did not see any utility,
any practical advantage to be derived from such
disputes. His great object was to preserve
science from all useless controversies, that time,
instead of being lost in them, might be gained
for better and more profitable investigations. In
order to attain this end, Bacon did not scruple to
sacrifice somewhat of the formal authority of
philosophy, which could thus the more uninter-
ruptedly secure and extend its real dominion.
Even this one consideration is sufficient to pre-
serve Bacon’s conduct from the charge of hypo-
crisy and dissimulation. He was not one of those
systematic thinkers who are rightly censured if,
in any respect, they abandon their principles.
Moreover, his theoretic principles— at least, as
he understood them — did not exclude religion ;
and he had the further principle to be practical
in all cases — to have an eye to the advantage of

PRUDENCE OF BACON. 309

science under all circumstances. And he found
that the interests of science were better served
by keeping peace with religion than by waging
war with it. This prudential course he could
adopt without hypocrisy. By avoiding hostility
on the one side, he obtained security on the other,
and this security was necessary. The less philo-
sophy— which Bacon sought to reform, and above
all to render serviceable —the less philosophy
encroached upon the region of theology, the more
cautiously it confined itself within certain limits,
the less reason had it to dread a hostile aggression
on the other side, and the more time it acquired
for its own undisturbed progress. For this purpose
Bacon treated the relation of science to theology,
as a sort of “ foreign affair,” with practical circum-
spection, with politic tact, with more prudence
than boldness. The inoffensive and subordinate
position which Bacon took with regard to religion
was not a cloak of infidelity, but an expedient for
the protection of his philosophy.

Let us suppose the impossible case, that Bacon
had denied and assailed religion, and had thus
begun a new religious controversy; what would
have been the practical result, if, indeed, there
had been any such result at all? The foundatiou
of a new religious party — of a sect — which would

x 8

310 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

have increased the divisions in the church. And
Bacon, forsooth, should have been the man to
aim at a practical result like this! A deter-
mined foe to the spirit of sectarianism, he should
have encouraged that spirit! He did not wish to
found a school even in philosophy, and yet he
should have founded a sect in religion! Surely
he cannot be fairly censured because he did not
employ means repugnant to himself towards an
equally repugnant end. The repugnant means
would have been verbal disputations about dogmas,
the repugnant end would have been a religious
sect. For the sake of science his heart was on
the side of peace. He considered his own epoch
favourable for science, because after long conten-
tions and wars a moment of peace had returned,
and therefore the works of peace, to which, above
all, art and science belong, could now hope for a
new and flourishing era. For the sake of peace
he decided unconditionally in favour of the Unity
of the church, which he advocated in his cele-
brated essays. ‘‘ Religion being the chief bond
of human society, it is a happy thing when
itself is well contained within the true bond
of unity. The quarrels and divisions about
religion were things unknown to the heathen.”
Again, “ The fruit (of unity) towards those that
are within the church is peace, which containeth

PRUDENCE OF BACON. 311

infinite blessings.”* To secure peace he favoured
ecclesiastical unity, based upon the decrees of
religion; and thus he less than any would attempt
to peril this unity by an attack. He fully re-
cognised the maxim, which perfectly expresses
his position —‘*‘ He who is not against us is
with us.”

Let us suppose, further, that Bacon, by em-
ploying the repugnant means of religious con-
troversy, had obtained the repugnant end, and
established a new religious sect, what would have
been the consequence? A new and zealous sec-
tarian spirit — that is to say, a new fanaticism —
that would have been the greatest impediment
to the philosophical thinker. Fanaticism is blind
religious zeal, and thus appeared in the eyes of
Bacon as the most venomous degeneracy in
religion—as a leprosy to which he openly and
boldly opposed the principle of toleration.

3. THE POLITICAL VIEW.

If Bacon, for the sake of peace, avoided all
religious controversy, and shunned every step
that might disturb ecclesiastical unity, he could
not do otherwise than require a similar pacific
disposition on the side of religion and the church.
For what is gained by a peaceful acknowledg-

* Essay III. “ Of Unity in Religion.”
x4

312 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

ment of the church, if the church itself desires
war? Here Bacon sets a defined impassable
limit to the authority of religion and the church.
He would have the spirit of turbulence sup-
pressed and restrained within the church itself.
Within the church an interruption to peace arises
from a blind religious zeal, which is always in-
clined to violent outbreaks. Its practical form
is fanaticism in the cause of propagandism, its
theoretical form is superstition; and to these forms
Bacon respectively sets a restraining and nega-
tive limit. The practical check to that fanatical
propaganda, which we may appropriately call the
ecclesiastical spirit of conquest, or the passion for
religious supremacy, is to be found in the state
and in policy. The theoretical check to supersti-
tion is to be found in science, more especially in
natural philosophy. Superstition is the internal
ground of religious fanaticism, which, in its turn,
is the ground of religious wars. The latter
should be prevented by the state, the former
by science. In the eyes of Bacon it is a false
unity in religion that is based upon superstition ;
for superstition is ignorance, mental darkness,
and “in the dark all colours are alike.” And
equally false is that ecclesiastical unity which
seeks to extend itself by violent expedients, and
in religious wars gives rise to those horrors that

HATRED OF FANATICISM. 313

have always had a tendency (and justly too) to
awake a dislike to the church. To prevent these,
Bacon makes the church subordinate to the
secular authority, that it may never disturb civil
peace or attack the power of the state, which, of
all human powers is the highest. It must never
wield the sword of Mahomet. In a word, Bacon
disarms the church in the name of the state. If
religion attacks the state, “ that is but to dash the
first table against the second, and so to connect
men as Christians, as we forget that they are men.
Lucretius, the poet, when he beheld the act of
Agamemnon, that could endure the sacrificing
of his own daughter, exclaimed: Yantum religio
potuit suadere malorum. What would he have
said if he had known of the massacre in France,
or the powder treason of England? He would
have been seven times more an epicure and
atheist than he was.” *

Against the fanatical propagation of religion,
the authority of the state opposes a secure barrier.
This severe discipline and surveillance of the
state is above all things necessary, that religion
may not kindle the torch of political revolution.
To this danger, which was imminent in his own
age, Bacon calls especial attention. It is partly
to be apprehended that religion by its affinity to

* Essay ITIL. “ Of Unity in Religion,”

814 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

fanaticism, and fanaticism by its affinity to—or
more correctly speaking, its accordance with—bar-
barism, may let loose the rabble, and array all the
wilful feelings with which it is connected against
the state. Thus arise religious civil wars, the
most terrible of all political evils. If a reform
in the church is requisite, it should be effected,
not by the people, but by the state. Thus
Bacon’s position with respect to religion is com-
pletely in accordance with the example set by
the English reformation, — by the age of Henry
the Eighth and Elizabeth. .« As the temporal
sword is to be drawn with great circumspection
in cases of religion, so it is a thing monstrous to
put it in the hands of the common people; let
that be left to the Anabaptists and other furies.
It was great blasphemy when the devil said, ‘I
will ascend and be like the Highest;’ but it is
greater blasphemy to personate God and bring
him in saying, ‘I will descend and be like the
prince of darkness;’ and what is it better, to make
the cause of religion to descend to the cruel and
execrable actions of murdering princes, butchery
of people, and subversion of states and govern-
ments! Surely this is to bring down the Holy
Ghost, instead of the likeness of a dove, in the
shape of a vulture or raven, and to set out of the
bark of a Christian church a flag of a bark of

HATRED OF FANATICISM. 315

pirates and assassins. Therefore it is most neces-
sary that the church by doctrine and decree,
princes by their sword, and all learnings, both
Christian and moral, as by their Mercury rod, do
damn and send to hell for ever those facts and
opinions tending to the support of the same, as
hath been already in good part done.” *

Thus is Bacon’s position with regard to religion
most clearly indicated by himself. He carries the
staff of the herald, who proclaims an armistice. He
desires peace, and therefore he professes an uncon-
ditional acknowledgment of that revealed reli-
gion which is likewise adopted by the state, at the
same time requiring an equally pacific disposition
on the side of the church, which is no longer to
wield secular power, but to leave this wholly in
the hands of the state; thus removing all those
means of coercion by which it oppresses consciences
and disturbs peace. Every coercion of conscience
attempted by the church unequivocally betrays
a design to grasp secular authority. Bacon con-
cludes his essay “ Of the Unity of the Church,”
with the following words:—<“It was a suitable
observation of a wise father, and no less ingeni-
ously composed, that those which held and per-
suaded pressure of consciences, were commonly
interested therein themselves for their own ends.”

* Essay III. “ Of Unity in Religion.”

316 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

4, THE NEGATIVE VIEW.

What Bacon unconditionally acknowledges is
that pacific and peace-promoting religion which
alone proceeds from the Deity; what he uncon-
ditionally rejects is that peace-destroying and be-
nighted religion which is based on human super-
stitions. Revealed religion is opposed to the
reason, but never to the good of man. This
point of view, which regards practical utility,
was so firmly established in Bacon, that he ever
made it a standard of the Divine will. But while
he is so respectful and submissive towards positive

revealed religion, he is equally uncompromising
and critical with regard to superstition, to which,
when it expresses itself practically, he opposes
the secular power as a public institution; and to
which, when it expresses itself theoretically, he
opposes science as a remedy. In this sense he
must be understood, when he says of natural
philosophy that it is the sweet medicine of su-
perstition, and the most faithful handmaid of
religion.*

Superstition, in the eyes of Bacon, is the ex-
ageerated, degenerate, and really selfish religion,
which to him appears far worse than degenerate

* “ Certissima superstitionis medicina.” “ Religioni fidissima
ancilla.”"— Vov. Org. I. 89.

SUPERSTITION AND ATHEISM. 317

philosophy. The degeneracy of philosophy is

infidelity or atheism, which Bacon refutes by

means of ne natural theology. _ This is opposed to
infidelity, as revealed theology is opposed to
superstition. If there was no choice possible
beside that between atheism and _ superstition,
Bacon would declare unconditionally in favour of
atheism, because it does not appear to him so
bad as the other. Whether theoretically or
practically considered, superstition appears to

him the more mischievous of the two; for theo-
retically it is an unworthy notion of the Deity,
which it perverts into an idol; practically, it
is dangerous to man, because it favours im-
morality and fanaticism, and therefore diffuses a
peace-destroying venom through human society.
Atheism _has_zno_notion of the Deity; this is
better than a notion that is absurd and opposed
to His true nature. It is better, he thinks, to
pass over or deny the existence ofa —Deity, than
to dishonour it by the unworthiest notions. This
is done by superstition, which is, in truth, a
“ pasquill against the Divine Being. Plutarch
sayeth well to that purpose: ‘ Surely,’ saith
he, ‘I had rather a great deal men should say
there was no such man at all as Plutarch, than
that they should say that there was one Plutarch
that would eat his children as soon as they were

318 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

born,’ as the poets speak of Saturn.”* Supersti-
tion tyrannises over men, produces discord among
them, and corrupts all the healthy powers of the
mind; nothing of the sort is done by atheism.
_{f Atheism leaves a man to sense, to philosophy,
to natural piety, to laws, to reputation; all
which may be guides to an outward moral
virtue, though religion were not; but super-
stition dismounts all these, and seeketh an ab-
solute monarchy in the minds of men; therefore
atheism did never perturb states; for it makes
men wary of themselves, as looking no further;
and we see the times inclined to atheism (as the
time of Augustus Cesar) were civil times.”t
Superstition, on the contrary, leads to political
aberrations. ‘* Superstition hath been the con-
fusion of many states, and bringeth ina ‘ primum

* Essay XVII. “ Of Superstition.” Here is a specimen of the
contradictions, of which, if we will, we may find many in the
works of Bacon. He has previously said that he prefers super-
stition to atheism; he now says that he prefers atheism to
superstition. With the former declaration he begins his discourse
against atheism ; with the latter his discourse against super-
stition. Which of the two did Bacon really prefer to the other ?
Let the reasons be examined which he opposes to each, and it
will be found that they are more numerous and stronger against
superstition than against atheism. Thus the contradiction
which exists in his words is solved in his own mind. Indeed, it
only exists in the eyes of superficial readers, and I should like
to know an author who to such readers is without contradiction.
—Author’s Note.

t Essay XVII. “Of Superstition.”

CAUSES OF SUPERSTITION. 319

mobile’ that ravisheth all the spheres of govern-
ment. ‘The master of superstition is the people,
and in all superstition wise men follow fools;
and arguments are fitted to practice in a reversed
order.”* If we look for the causes of superstition,
we shall find them to be “ Pleasing and sensual
rites and ceremonies; excess of outward and
Pharisaical holiness; ever great reverence of
tradition, which cannot but bind the church; the
stratagems of prelates for their own ambition and
honour ; the proving too much of good intentions,
which openeth the gate to conceits and novelties ;
the taking an aim at divine matters by human,
which cannot but breed mixture of imaginations;
and, lastly, barbarous times, especially joined with
calamities and disasters.”+ We must not allow
ourselves to be deceived by the similarity of
superstition to religion. This very similarity
renders it the more hideous. “As it addeth
deformity to an ape to be like a man, so the simi-
litude of superstition to religion makes it the
more deformed.” Bacon prudently adds, how-
ever: “ There is a superstition in avoiding super-
stition, when men think to do best if they go
furthest from the superstition formerly received ;
therefore care would be had (as it fareth in
ill-purgings) the good be not taken away with

* Essay XVII. “ Of Superstition.” t Ibid.

320 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

the bad, which commonly is done when the people
is the reformer.”

Superstition, tyrannical and selfish as it is, hates
its adversary, and brands every one that opposes
it with the name of atheist. How great caution
must be observed in the use of this name!
Atheism is “ Godlessness (Gottlosigheit). True
atheism is that practical godlessness which, under
the appearance of religion, favours selfish interests,
and conduces to private advantages.” Theore-
tical godlessness — speculative atheism — is alto-
gether very rare. “ The great atheists, indeed,
are hypocrites, which are ever handling holy
things, but without feeling; so as they must
needs be cauterised in the end.”

5. BACON’S OWN RELIGIOUS SENTIMENTS.

The religious character of Bacon is in accord-
ance with his philosophy. Even with respect to
this extremely recondite point (for a man’s own
religious views belong to his own heart) we can
pronounce a definite judgment. He was utterly
averse to superstition, as the deformed religion
of human conceit, and attacked it with scientific
(more particularly physical) ‘ enlightenment ;”
to atheism he opposed scientific reasons, but with-
out any feeling of animosity whatever. Revealed

POSITION WITH REGARD TO RELIGION. 32]

religion and the church that is based upon it, he
acknowledged for reasons with which his theo-
retical views did not interfere; while with his
practical and political views they were fully in
accordance. He desired to see revealed religion
purified, like natural science, from all human
idols. On this point he was as thoroughly anti-
catholic as became a genuine follower of the
age of the Reformation. He wished to adopt
revealed religion without any logical form of
proof; and on this point he thought antischo-
lastically as the founder of a new philosophy.
This philosophy could furnish no arguments to
prove the articles of revealed religion, and Bacon’s
mind was exactly fitted to perceive this incapacity
in his philosophy. All that it could offer to reli-
gion was a formal, unconditional acknowledgment.
I am willing to concede that Bacon’s personal
position at the Court of James L, his regard for
the king, and the exigencies of the time generally,
together with many collateral motives, may have
greatly influenced and confirmed him in the ex-
pression of this acknowledgment. With a merely
formal acknowledgment it is easy to speak in any
key; and Bacon sometimes employed the lan-
guage of simple piety. Human authority in
religion he desired to attack; Divine authority he
desired unconditionally to acknowledge. It may,

P

322 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

indeed, be asked what Bacon assumed as the
decisive test of Divine authority. If he had pro-
posed this question to himself he would have been
compelled to answer it with “the Scriptures,” and
thus have fallen into contradiction with some of
his own scientific notions. But it belonged to
the religious character of his age not to inves-
tigate seriously the question of Biblical authority.
Bacon’s formal acknowledgment of revealed reli-
gion did not exclude an internal acknowledgment,
though I will not say that it proved one. At all
events, a mind like his was too wide and compre-
hensive for that species of “ enlightenment” which
absolutely denies everything that it is unable to
explain. This kind of enlightenment he left to
later philosophers, who could think more nar-
rowly, and therefore more systematically, than
himself. However, the internal acknowledgment
of religion, for which his intellect, occupied as it
was with worldly interests, both scientific and
practical, still found room, was neither a jealous
nor a profound emotion. Like all his other incli-
nations, it was cool. Bacon’s belief rested upon a
suppressed doubt, with respect to which it main-
tained a constant equilibrium. His real interest
was centred in the world, in nature, and in expe-
rience ; religious faith was not, and never became,
the treasure of his heart. For this he lacked the

NEGATIVE POSITION OF BACON. 323

simple and childish mind — the fitting vessel for
faith. In religion, as in everything else, he had
begun with doubt, and his treatise on the ‘ Chris-
tian Paradoxes” (1645), which belonged to an
early period of his life, and did not appear till
after his death, proves his theological scepticism.
He knew the points of opposition between reli-
gious revelation and human reason, before he
set them aside by an arbitrary decision. The
religious disposition of Bacon is best character-
ised by negative predicates. We can distinctly
say what it was not. It was not hypocrisy, for
his acknowledgment was meant sincerely; neither
was it piety, for worldly interests lay nearest to
his heart, and he was naturally deficient in those
qualities that constitute the essence — not to say
the genius—of religion; namely, an unsophisti-
cated readiness to believe, and a child-like need of
faith. « If we conceive his religious views nearer
to infidelity than to superstition, and equally re-
moved from both genuine piety and hypocrisy,
we shall hit upon the right place—a cool medium,
which may closely border on religious indifference,
if it does not exactly correspond to it. Consi-
dered with respect to his-own feelings, his ac-
knowledgment of religion did not cost him so
much as a disguise. His views on this subject
did not proceed from the fulness of his heart, but
x2

324 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

amounted to a well-considered and well-guided
deportment; they were not a mask, but a dress
suited to the age, which we find perfectly natural;
still, strictly speaking, they were scarcely more
than his garments.

ILI. Diversity OF OPINION RESPECTING THE RELI-
Gious VIEWS OF BACON.

BACON AND DE MAISTRE.

To be understood superficially and to be judged
partially is the very intelligible fate of all philo-
sophers. One-sided judgments pronounced by
an acute intellect are always suspicious ; for they
always regard one particular characteristic more
than all the rest of a philosopher’s peculiarities :
and by dwelling on this especially render it
especially prominent. With regard to the reli-
gious position of Bacon, the judgments that have
been pronounced upon it constitute a really in-
teresting and instructive spectacle. By taking
a one-sided view of that which was two-sided
in Bacon’s own nature, they necessarily contra~
dict each other to the most violent degree. All
the conceivable contradictory judgments that
could be pronounced on Bacon’s relation to re-
ligion have been pronounced in fact, and serve to

OPPOSITE VIEWS RESPECTING BACON. 325

show what contradictions Bacon combined within
himself. Compared with him, their judgments
are one-sided; compared with each other, they
form a perfect specimen of absolute contradiction.
By public opinion in England Bacon is generally
regarded as a genuine Churchman; in Germany
the correctness of this view is greatly doubted
by those learned men who have touched upon the
theme; and in France it is so utterly denied, that
Bacon’s views are asserted to be in direct opposi-
tion to those of the Church and religion. But
even in France, where much more attention has
been paid to Bacon than in Germany, voices dia-
metrically opposed to each other have been heard,
specimens of which we will cursorily compare.

I must begin by remarking that the separation
between revealed religion and human reason,
which had been introduced by Bacon, found its
way among minds of a very different order, and
served as an expression for diametrically opposite
interests. In short, the Baconian formula was
greedily caught up by one party as a shield for
faith, by another as a shield for infidelity. On
this point there is a distinction between the
seventeenth and the eighteenth century. In the
latter, when progressive “ enlightenment” still
availed itself of the Baconian formula, it was

always with an anti-religious view; the formula
¥ 3

326 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

had become a merely formal acknowledgment, of
which we may say that it excluded all internal
religion, and, indeed, concealed its opposite. In
this form does the Baconian principle of faith
appear with Condillac, who carries the Baconian
philosophy to an extreme point of exclusive and
perfected sensualism. In the seventeenth cen-
tury, on the other hand, we find in France the
same separation between faith and reason main-
tained for the interests of faith. But within this
positive establishment of faith a further opposi-
tion is still possible; for we have still to inquire
on what grounds reason is sacrificed to revealed
religion — whether this is done by piety or by
scepticism? It may be the interest of piety to
immerse itself in Divine revelation, unchecked
and unembarrassed by human reason. It may be
the interest of the sceptical reason to sunder the
knots of doubt with the sword of faith; not so
much to sharpen the sword of faith as deprive
reason of the power of solving its own doubts —
that is, to leave reason itself in a state of doubt.
Reason is, in this case, sacrificed to faith, after it
has surveyed on every side and analysed with
sceptical acumen the contradictions of the latter.
Such a triumph of faith over reason is, in fact,
the triumph of the sceptic; if doubts can only be
resolved thus, they are really insoluble, and the

PASCAL AND BAYLE. 327

sceptic has gained his victory. What he truly
believes in is the uncertainty of human reason;
his creed is, in fact, a disbelief in rational truth,
which he translates into a blind faith in the truth
of Divine revelation. ‘Those opposite interests
with respect to faith—the religious and the
sceptical — are both founded on the Baconian
separation between religion and philosophy. Two
of the greatest and most interesting minds of the
seventeenth century maintain this separation in
the interest of faith, but exhibit the diversity just
described. One is the Jansenist Blaise Pascal ;
the other the sceptic Pierre Bayle.

When the Bacon formula had been taken up
in such a one-sided manner, so as to appear now |
on the side of faith, now on that of infidelity, we
cannot wonder that Bacon’s own religious views
were interpreted in a similar fashion; so that
some explained them through Pascal, others
through Bayle, others, again, through Condillac.
* Bacon was a decided unbeliever ”— such was
the judgment of Condillac and his school, the
Encyclopedists and their successors; Mallet, the
biographer of Bacon; Cabanis, his panegyrist ;
Lasalle, his translator, who openly asserts that
Bacon was in his heart a thorough atheist, and

in his external acknowledgment of religion a
x4

328 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

mere hypocrite and courtier.* All these persons,
who are members of the same intellectual family,
regard Bacon as their aneestor, and by the family
analogy judge him as one of themselves. At the
same time we hear, on the other side, the opposite
verdict — “ He was a thorough believer.” Such
is the judgment of De Luc, the interpreter of
the Baconian philosophy, against whom Lasalle
defends the infidelity of Bacon. The Abbé
Emery —the same who explained the views of
Leibnitz on religion and morality— takes the
same side as De Luc in his apologetic treatise on
the Christianity of Bacon.

All these views are one-sided, and, moreover,
far too vague to comprehend the whole mind of
Bacon. But they are all in contact with him at
some point or other, though this point is not the
centre. Among those enumerated above the
nearest akin to him are Condillac and his fol-
lowers, who bear to him about the same relation
that the Wolfians bear to Leibnitz among the
Germans. Freethinkers and believers have alike
claimed Bacon as a partisan, each haying looked

* Mallet’s “Life of Lord Bacon” prefixed to the edition of
Bacon’s works, published in London, 1740. Cabanis, “ Rapport
du Physique et du Moral de ’Homme.” Lasalle, “‘ iuvres de
Bacon, préface générale.”

+ De Luc, “ Précis de Ja Philosophie de Bacon? Emery,
“ Christianisme de Bacon.”

JOSEPH DE MAISTRE. 329

exclusively to the side that is favourable to them-
selves. Whatever has the appearance of religious
-faith in Bacon is regarded by the freethinkers as
empty show—a mere mask — deliberate hypo-
crisy. Lasalle, who calls himself ‘* Bacon’s valet,”
speaks unblushingly, like a valet, of this partie
honteuse of his master. On the other hand, what-
ever has the appearance of infidelity in Bacon is
regarded by his religious admirers as a mere
unimportant expression, or an error, that was
afterwards detected by Bacon himself and in due
time laid aside. “The praise which has been
heaped on Bacon by the enemies of the Christian
religion,” says the Abbé Emery, “have almost
brought suspicion upon his faith, But how
joyfully are we surprised by his religious feeling
and his pious utterances!” Thus, among be-
lievers and unbelievers has Bacon found his
apologists, or, to use a modern term, his advo-
cates to plead for him. However, to complete
the group, we still want the polemic contro-
versialist, the advocatus diaboli, whom, in the
case of Bacon, we can only find among a certain
class of persons —namely, among the fanatics.
And here we really do find this advocatus
diaboli ; —he comes, as if he were called, in the
person of Count Joseph de Maistre, through
whom French literature has at last, with a hearty

330 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

good will, sought to fill up the gap caused in its
Baconian documents by the absence of polemical
controversy. Under the title “ Examen de la
Philosophie de Bacon,”* De Maistre has, in two
volumes, attempted not merely to attack, but to
annihilate Bacon. He is so far right in his
thorough hostility that his point of view is diame-
trically opposite to that of Bacon. Nothing was
so repulsive as religious fanaticism to the tolerant
thinker devoted to the study of natural science.
De Maistre is a fanatic. To no ecclesiastical theory
was Bacon more opposed than to the Catholic.
Our readers must have already remarked that
when Bacon describes superstition, he borrows his
traits from Catholicism. Now De Maistre is not
only a Catholic in the Ultramontane sense of the
word, but he is a jesuitical Catholic. To no
scientific view was Bacon more decidedly opposed
than to that of the schoolmen, by whom the
theology of the middle ages was elaborated. De
Maistre is an artificial schoolman, for his age >
prevents him from being a natural one; he is a
Romanticist, one of those who attempt an arti-
ficial resuscitation of the past by means of a
political restoration with medieval institutions.

* “ Examen de la Philosophie de Bacon, ot Yon traite dif-
férentes questions de la philosophie rationelle. Ciuvre posthume
du Comte Joseph de Maistre. 2 vols. Paris et Lyon, 1836.”

JOSEPH DE MAISTRE. 331

Therefore, passing over the Baconian philosophy,
he takes his stand at a grade of cultivation that
Bacon has left behind him; which is an unlucky
position for the polemics of Count de Maistre,
inasmuch as he only sees the back of the object he
attacks, and on the strength of this aspect passes
judgment upon Bacon. If we compare them with
each other, we find that their points of view, not
the ages in which they lived, are opposed to each
other. Bacon’s opposition to scholasticism was
natural, necessary, decided; De Maistre’s opposi-
tion to Bacon is artificial, forced, unsteady, and,
because he would be most decided, he becomes, in
the highest degree, violent, unjust, and irrational.
Thus the crusade which the French Romanticist
of the nineteenth century would preach against
the English philosopher of the seventeenth is
poisoned and corrupted in the outset.

What De Maistre finds most intolerable in the
Baconian philosophy is the separation between
philosophy and religion —science and theology—
that is first introduced by Bacon. What most
excites his wrath in the Baconian philosophy is
the precedence given to physics, and the secondary
rank conceded to moral and political science. Only
the second place, he thinks, belongs to physical
science; the first place belongs of right to theology,
morals, and politics. Every people that does not

Bo2 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

rigidly observe this order of precedence is in a
state of decline. The Romanticist is dreaming of
those ecclesiastical forefathers and schoolmen who
philosophised for the benefit of the Church. He
maintains, in opposition to Bacon, a similar union
of religion and philosophy ; nevertheless he so far
forgets himself as to defend this union by argu-
ments that do not belong to scholasticism but to
“ enlightenment.” One can hardly believe one’s
own eyes, when, to prove the accordance of reve-
lation with reason, De Maistre advances arguments
that have been already employed by Lessing. He
speaks of the educational course of Divine revela-
tions, and of their natural fitness to the compre-
hensive power of the human understanding; and
shows that no revelation is anything more than an
earlier-communicated truth, an “enlightenment”
under pedagogical auspices. Where a De Maistre
should rest his defence solely on the authority of
the Church, he has recourse to the rational argu-
ments afforded by an “enlightenment” foreign
to the Church. When the modern diplomatist
espouses the cause of scholasticism against Bacon,
he becomes a Romanticist; when he defends
it as its advocate, he becomes a sophist, and
shares the fate of all his party. While resting
upon the authority of the Church, which has force
on its side, persons of this class may triumph;

JOSEPH DE MAISTRE. 333

but when they have recourse to rational argu-
ments, they inconsistently sacrifice their own
principles, and are defeated to such a degree that
they voluntarily surrender their weapons to the
enemy. However, Bacon is by no means the
sole mark for the polemics of De Maistre. In
the person of Bacon, De Maistre would annihi-
late a whole race —a whole age —the eighteenth
century, with all the representatives of the French
“ enlightenment.” Every blow that Bacon re-
ceives from the hands of De Maistre is intended,
at the same time, for Condillac and the Ency-
clopedists. De Maistre’s book against Bacon
is a declaration of war on the part of the French
Romanticism of the nineteenth century against
the French “enlightenment” of the eighteenth.
** Bacon,” says De Maistre, “was the idol of
the eighteenth century; he was the ancestor
of Condillac, and must be judged according to
his descendants —his intellectual kindred — and
these were a Locke, a Hobbes, a Voltaire, a
Helvetius, a Condillac, a Diderot, a D’Alembert,
&e. Bacon laid down the principle of the Ency-
clopzdists, and these in return spread abroad his
fame, and elevated him to the throne of philo-
sophy. He was the originator of that ‘ Theo-
misia’ that filled the mind of the eighteenth
century.”

334 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

Such, according to De Maistre, is the historical
importance of Bacon, which is unquestionably
great and extensive. The advocacy of “ enlighten-
ment” has all the more interest in reducing this
character to its true value, as a whole hostile
century dates from it as from a beginning. From
lengthy tirades we will endeavour to bring to-
gether the characteristic traits that will show our
readers the image of Bacon as it existed in the
mind of De Maistre. It is a caricature unlike
anything in humanity, that, instead of rendering
its object detestable, makes its originator ridi-
culous. JF anaticism spoils every talent, even the
talent for distortion, destroying the last vestige
of similarity with nature, because there is nothing
in common between nature and itself.

De Maistre chiefly estimates the object of his
criticism from the Roman Catholic point of view,
which he calls the Christian. And from this
point of view, what is the aspect of Bacon? He
was, says De Maistre, what the Encyclopzdists
called him, an infidel, a decided atheist. Never-
theless, he spoke in praise of faith, and al-
lowed it unconditional authority. “ So much
the worse,” says De Maistre; “he was likewise
a consummate hypocrite.” Here good service
is done by Lasalle, who also declared that his
lord and master, as he called Bacon, was an

JOSEPH DE MAISTRE. 335

atheist with a hypocritical mask. But where does
De Maistre find the eriteria for Bacon’s in-
fidelity and hypocrisy? Here we have a fine
specimen of the keenness of De Maistre’s scent
in sniffing out such criteria. Indeed, so keen a
scent would scarcely allow any one to escape.
In the twenty-ninth aphorism of the second
book of his “ Novum Organum,” Bacon says that
the uncommon phenomena of nature, monstrous
births, &c., should be examined and collected,
but with caution, and that those above all must
be regarded with suspicion that have their source
in religion, as is the case with the prodigies of
Livy. De Maistre lays violent hands on this
passage, in which Bacon is made to confess his
atheism and hypocrisy at once. The passage
cited refers to remarkable natural phenomena; —
not to wonders, but to monsters (monstra), as, in-
deed, Bacon calls them. As far as these are con-
cerned Bacon would not have implicit credit
given to religious narratives, whatever they may
be. Stop!” cries De Maistre, “this is flat
blasphemy! Bacon here means Christianity ;
—he blasphemes the true religion; —he is no
Christian; — he is an atheist!” But Bacon
adds, by way of example, the prodigies narrated
by Livy, and further on he cites the writers
on natural magic and alchemy. The Christian

326 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

miracles, which are not even included in the
category, never occur to his mind. “Here,”
cries De Maistre, “is a hypocrite;—he means
Christianity, and he cites Livy. See how the
clever actor can conceal himself in a moment, by
using Livy asa mask. I can say to him in the
words of Madame de Sevigné, ‘ Gentle masque,
I know you.’ He says that where monsters are
concerned, religious narratives are not to be be-
lieved, whatever they may be.* Thus it stands
written, ‘whatever they may be.’ He means
all, the Christian included.” Because Bacon
is doubtful with respect to the records of mon-
sters, he is regarded by De Maistre as un-Chris-
tian; because he refers to Livy, he is looked
upon as a hypocrite.

And what is the scientific rank of Bacon in the
opinion of one who has just unmasked him as an
atheist and hypocrite in religion? ‘ He preaches
science,” says De Maistre, “just as his Church
preaches Christianity—without a mission.” Count
de Maistre will permit us, in our turn, to use the
expression of Madame de Sevigné with reference
to himself: “‘ Gentle masque, we know you.” He

* The words in the passage referred to are—“ Maxime autem
habenda sunt pro suspectis, que procedunt quomodocunque a
religione ; ut prodigia Livii;’ and thus De Maistre’s reasoning
is even more inaccurate than appears in the text.—J. O.

JOSEPH DE MAISTRE. 337

attacks Bacon, not merely as the intellectual pro-
genitor of Condillac, as the idol of the eighteenth
century, as the philosopher, but also as the— Pro-
testant. A Protestant, a member of the rebellious
Church, withdraws from the Mother Church the
service of philosophy, undertakes the hegemony
of science, and hands it over to Protestantism.
This unpleasant fact is a heavy grievance to the
fanatical Catholic, the romantic schoolman, the
diplomatist of the restoration, and he would
gladly get rid of such a stumbling-block of
offence. Bacon had as much a vocation to be
the reformer of science, as Protestantism to ef-
fect a reformation of the Church; which, in
De Maistre’s language, means he had no voca-
tion at all, but in our language denotes that he
had a high vocation indeed; and to this high
vocation the three centuries during which Pro-
testantism has existed and flourished, bear ample
testimony. According to the judgment of De
Maistre, Bacon was not a scientific genius.
Why? Because he made no discoveries him-
self, but only wrote on the art of making dis-
coveries ; because he was a theorist with respect
to this art. We may as well reproach the writer
on xsthetics for not being himself an artist. If
people treating of subjects only say what they
are not, there is no end to verbosity. The number
Z

338 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

of infinite propositions*, as logic calls them, is
itself infinite. Logic should extract specimens of
these infinite propositions (which, in point of fact,
are no propositions) from the works of our critics.
But if Bacon was no more a scientific genius
than a writer on esthetics is an artist, what was
he after all? He was, according to the deci-
sion of De Maistre, a mere writer t of the most
frivolous and rudest kind, and, moreover, without
a trace of originality; for his language abounds
in Gallicisms. His love for science was an un-
happy and sterile love — like the passion of a
eunuch! His so-called philosophy is a spiritless
materialism, uncertain and unsteady in its ex-
pression, frivolous in tone, and full of fallacies in
every assertion. De Maistre will not acknow-
ledge a single spark of truth in Bacon, but con-
stantly repeats expressions of the profoundest con-
tempt. We see that we are concerned with a
mere maniac, who, at every word, plunges deeper
and deeper into an inconsiderate and therefore
ridiculous rage; and, under the name of Bacon,
maltreats a bugbear that is but his own bungling
handiwork; as for instance, when we read such
propositions as these : —‘* The general impression

* FE. g., “ Man is a non-horse.”—J. O.
} ‘Ein belletristicher Schriftsteller.” There is no equivalent
for this expression.—J. O.

JOSEPH DE MAISTRE. 339

left upon me after a careful examination of Bacon,
is a feeling of thorough mistrust, and, therefore, of
thorough contempt. I despise him in every
respect — both when he says Yes, and when he
says Vo.” “ Bacon is wrong when he affirms;
wrong when he denies; wrong when he doubts;
wrong, in a word, wherever error is possible to
man.” And the basis of this thoroughly false
and pernicious philosophy was as vain and des-
picable as the philosophy itself. It was nothing
but a morbid love of invention, the “ disease of
neologism,” that seduced Bacon and the whole
modern philosophy in England, France, and Ger-
many. A mere desire to oppose the ancients
gave to all the so-called systems of modern phi-
losophy their ephemeral existence, and to the
founders thereof that ephemeral fame, that Count
de Maistre annihilates with the breath of his
mouth. His indignant glance discovers — not
without pity—the greatest and most difficult
thinker of modern philosophy — the German Im-
manuel Kant— in the ranks of the neologists.
It is amusing to find a Kant before the tribunal
of a De Maistre, and still more amusing to hear
the sentence pronounced upon the greatest of
philosophers by the least unbiassed of judges.
In the opinion of De Maistre, Kant might have

been a philosopher if he had not been a charlatan.
Zz 2

340 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

The incomparable passage is to this effect:— “If
Kant had, with all simplicity, followed a Plato, a
Descartes, and a Malebranche, the world would
long have ceased to talk of Locke; and France
would, perchance, have become better instructed
with respect to her miserable and ridiculous Con-
dillac. Instead of this, Kant abandoned himself
to that unhappy desire for innovation that will not
be indebted to any one. He discoursed like an
obscure oracle. He would say nothing like other
people, but invented a language of his own; and
not content with requiring us to learn German
(and no slight requisition that), he would even
compel us to learn Kant. And what is the re-
sult? Among his own countrymen he excited a
transient fermentation, an artificial enthusiasm, a
scholastic commotion, that found its limit on the
right bank of the Rhine; for as soon as the inter-
preters of Kant ventured to cross this boundary,
and attempted to palm off their stuff upon the
French, the latter were unable to restrain their
laughter.”

I am sincerely afraid that a similar fortune will
befall Count de Maistre among the countrymen of
Bacon and of Kant; and, indeed, we shall laugh
at him on other grounds than those on which the
French laugh at Kant; we shall laugh at his
expense, not at our own.

341

CHAP. XI.

THE BACONIAN PRINCIPLE OF FAITH IN ITS DEVELOPMENT.

THE motives that determine Bacon’s position with
respect to religion, and compel it to proceed by a
compounded, and, we may say, diagonal path, are
many and various. The movement is guided by
springs that co-operate in very different directions.
To understand the Baconian tendency in matters
of faith, it is necessary to resolve it carefully into
its original motives. Those who interpret it as
merely positive or merely negative, do not under-
stand it. As the whole realistic philosophy of
modern times has its root in Bacon, in him also is
to be found the beginning of all those relations
which arise between that realism and religious
faith. Bacon’s religious views implicitly contain
all those characteristic features that were after-
wards propagated by the Anglo-Gallic “ enlighten-
ment” (Aufklirung). His natural theology im-
plants that germ of Deism which was developed,
especially in the eighteenth century, by a series

of English philosophers. And, indeed, this deism
z 3

342 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

is determined, even in Bacon, as something that
deviates from historical religion. Bacon, on the
side of philosophy, professes for historical or re-
vealed religion an unconditional veneration that
excludes all criticism by the reason, inasmuch as,
at the very outset, he admits the impossibility of
arriving at positive religion by the way of philo-
sophy, and reduces to a formula the blind sub-
jection of reason to faith. But while thus sub-
ordinated, science is nevertheless allowed to move
freely in its own region, unimpeded by religious
authority. He would, therefore, place the Church
under the control of the State, and deprive it of
all those means by which, through its power, it
might violently curb the freedom of the mind.
The Church is to be respectfully acknowledged,
but is not to rule. Hence Bacon desires the de-
struction of religious supremacy and the establish-
ment of religious toleration ; and zeal against the
former, and in favour of the latter, was ever
manifested by the “ enlightened” in England and
France, however various the positions they might
take with respect to historical religion. Bacon,
not Hobbes, was the first to insist that the sword
of the Church should be taken out of the hands
of the priests, and placed in those of the State.
Bacon, not Locke, was the first to give empha-
tic expression to the principle of toleration, and

MATERIALISTIC TENDENCY. 343

to demand its establishment for the interests of
science.

But from the Baconian point of view may be
deduced, not only deism and the principle of
toleration, but also that decided infidelity which
succeeded the introduction of his philosophy in
England, and, more particularly, in France.
Infidelity, atheism, and the general negation of
the religious element is, indeed, the perpetual
expression of philosophical materialism. Indeed,
between materialism and atheism there is always
a logical connection. In Bacon himself, a tend-
ency to materialism is as apparent as it is ex-
plicable, being only concealed, and, as it were,
built over by the metaphysics on which Natural
Theology — that first beginning of Deism — is
based. The mind of Bacon lived in physics ; his
purely physical interpretation of things was, in
its very principle, mechanical, and, therefore,
materialistic. From the physical point of view
he opposed superstition; and when he had to
choose between superstition and atheism, he gave
every possible reason for a preference of the
latter. This predilection for atheism is consis-
tent; a consequence of his inclination to mate-
rialism. When, therefore, philosophy drops her
formal acknowledgment of positive religion, and,

so far, extends her physical interpretation of
z 4

344 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

things as to do away with metaphysics and na-
tural theology, it will no longer be satisfied with
preferring atheism to superstition, but openly set
up the former in the place of religion.

If we now compare religion and philosophy as
they appeared to Bacon, we are struck by the
logical incompatibility of the one with the other ;
and to render the contradiction clear, we must
accurately define Bacon’s conceptions of them
both. Higher or even different conceptions were
never attained during the whole of the so-called
“enlightenment” that followed him. Religion,
in Bacon’s sense of the word, is a divine (or
supernatural) revelation; philosophy, in Bacon’s
sense of the word, is the interpretation of nature.
The foundation of the divine revelation is, accord-
ing to Bacon, a divine arbitrary will, by which
all necessity is excluded; the natural foundation
of things is mechanical necessity, which excludes
all operation by final causes, and, @ fortiori, every-
thing like an arbitrary will. Thus philosophy
knows nothing of uncontrolled will, and religion
nothing of necessity. A mere arbitrary will is
without a cause, and therefore incomprehensible.
Therefore, if Bacon could not find another found-
ation for religion than such a will, he was quite
right in declaring its incomprehensibility. If
reason, when investigating religion, can only dis-

RELIGION AND PHILOSOPHY. 345

cern contradictions, which it is absolutely unable
to solve, then Bacon was quite right in putting an
end to so many aimless disputes, so much idle de-
bate with reasons and counter-reasons, by silencing
reason altogether, and declaring that it was his
duty to acknowledge without condition the divine
articles of faith. To see this, we have only to un-
derstand the grade of culture occupied by human
reason within the sphere of the Baconian philo-
sophy; the value which, on the one hand, it assigns
to religion, and, on the other, to itself. Religion,
according to Bacon, is a positive system of faith,
composed of divine statutes, appointed by the abso-
lute will of God without any extrinsic cause. And
what is the value of reason in its own eyes? In
all natural things it is experience; in all super-
natural things both reason and all valid conclu-
sions cease together with experience. Beyond
the limits of experience, it is lost in empty dispu-
tations, and in sterile, interminable arguments.
Considered in reference to nature, human reason
is a science conformed to experience ; considered
with reference to religion, a mere sophist, animal
disputaz. In religion the divine will despoti-
cally rules; in the philosophy of religion, human
caprice exercises an arbitrary rule by its argu-
ments, This is Bacon’s view of the subject; thus
does he determine the mutual rights of religion

346 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

and reason; and, therefore, when he makes reason
subservient to religion, this simply means that he
forces the human will to be silent in the presence
of the divine. And granted that this is the true
relation of the rights on both sides, how could he
decide otherwise between them? Meason arrives
at conclusions, and for every one of them a major
premiss—a rule—a law is required. The laws
of nature we must discover, for they are concealed
in the things of the natural world. The laws of
religion we must assume, for they are revealed by
God. Reason is permitted to draw conclusions
from these laws, but not to alter or to test them.
They are premisses established from eternity, which
are employed, but not made, by reason. How
Bacon understands this secondary use of reason,
he tells in an incidental comparison, which very
characteristically illustrates his views of religion.
According to him it may be compared with a
game—chess, for instance—the rules of which
must not be violated or even criticised by the
players ; but which nevertheless may be rationally
applied, so that deductions may be made from
them. The case of positive religion is similar. It
is (reverentially speaking) a game*, the rules of
which are established by the Divine will, and

* This singular simile occurs in “ De Augment.” IX., towards
the end.

THE “CHESS” SIMILE. 347

communicated by revelation to man. If we have
to do with religion, we must not disturb her
rules, but simply adopt them as they are given to
us, and make no other use of our own reason
than in judging according to their guidance.

I. Bacon AND BAYLE.

RELIGION under the likeness of a game, — this in-
voluntary simile on the part of Bacon really shows
in a very striking manner the weak side of his
religious view ; for though it was quite consistent
with this view, and was, no doubt, innocently
intended by Bacon, it is in reality profane, and
its profanity becomes more and more evident as
the realistic mode of thought becomes more and
more defined and systematic among his successors.
An attempt was soon made so to play this game
at chess, that human reason could cry “ check-
mate” to religion. ‘To compare religion with a
game, is, in fact, to treat it as a stake; and the
philosophy that was derived from Bacon per-
suaded itself, after a few moves, that it had won the
game. According to the conception that is formed
of the nature of religion and philosophy from
the Baconian point of view, they form exclusive
spheres, diametrically opposite to each other, and
therefore in a state of mutual contradiction. The

348 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

opposition was silenced by an arbitrary decree;
it was rather set aside than solved by a formal
acknowledgment; concealed it was not. The
formal acknowledgment rested to a great extent
upon practical motives, political reasons, sub-
jective grounds, that were rather prescribed to
philosophy than derived from it. These were
props that must necessarily fall before long, and
with them falls the Baconian view of faith. The
bond by which reason and religion are held toge-
ther is broken; they fall apart, and their intrinsic
Opposition is shown in all the stubbornness of a lo-
gical contradiction. It is this contradiction alone
that is carried further, and becomes more sharply
defined, as the Baconian philosophy is dissemi-
nated. Philosophy is brought to this strait, that
it must doubt either itself or faith ; and thus arises
the inevitable dilemma, that either human reason
or positive religion loses its credibility. Reason
becomes either sceptical with respect to itself, or
incredulous with respect to religion; and of the
two powers, one alone still remains firm. The
firmness of revealed religion shakes the foundation
of philosophy — the belief in the security of human
reason, or the security of the latter shakes the
authority of positive religion. Scepticism, which
for a moment rests upon implicit faith, forms the
transition to unbelief; and this point of transition

PIERRE BAYLE. 349

in the progress of the Baconian philosophy is
reached by Pierre Bayle, who stands as the
intermediate link between Bacon and the so-
called “enlightenment” of the French, on the
border line of the seventeenth and eighteenth cen-
turies.

Bayle, like Bacon, makes repugnance to reason
a ground for the affirmation of faith; like Bacon,
he considers the contradiction between religion
and reason to be irreconcilable; because, like
Bacon, he finds the source of religion in the
absolute Divine will, the source of human reason
in natural laws. The absolute will of a Being
subject to no conditions, and the knowing facul-
ties of man, subject to natural conditions, bear
no rational relation to each other, and, least of
all, can the decrees of the Divine be compre-
hended by the human mind. They require blind
faith and blind obedience. Any attempt at ra-
tional criticism of the positive articles of faith
can only make evident the contradictions between
the two. And it is just in this that the original
and remarkable achievement of Bayle consists,
that he made the contradictions evident, and em-
ployed all his acuteness in carrying them out, and
exposing them to the eyes of every one. That re-
pugnance of faith to reason, which Bacon had
merely indicated, Bayle diligently expounded,

350 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

showing that reason is both practically and theo-
retically excluded by religion. Thus Bayle be-
came, what Bacon was not, a critic of faith.
Practical religion is holiness, theoretical religion
consists of the revealed truths of faith. Bayle
showed, on the one hand, that holiness would not
stand the test of natural morality; and, on the
other, that the revealed truths of faith were op-
posed to human reason. His critique of reason
proceeded according to the Baconian method ; it
proved the contradiction between holiness and
morality, religion and reason, by pointing it out
in definite instances; that is to say, by the way
of induction. By “negative instances” he refuted
the notion of that harmony that was supposed to
exist between religion and philosophy, and esta-
blished the opposition that had been acknow-
ledged by Bacon. That the holy character was
not, at the same time, moral, according to the
rational notion of natural ethics, he showed by
the life of King David.* That the positive doc-
trines of faith were not, at the same time, the
doctrines of reason, and, indeed, never could be-
come so, he showed by the dogmas of the re-
demption of man through Divine grace, and of
the fall of man, in consequence of a Divine de-

* Compare article “ David” in the “ Dictionnaire Historique
et Critique.”

PIERRE BAYLE. 351

cree. The fall of man was with Bayle a “ nega-
tive instance” against all speculation in rational
theology. However the latter might endeavour
to deduce sin from a Divine decree, every dogma
could be opposed by a rational proposition. The
fact of the Fall, with the host of moral evils that
are its result, appears to Bayle absolutely inex-
plicable. Hither man is not free — and in that
case his acts cannot be counted sinful — or he is
free —in which case his freedom is derived from
the Deity. In this latter case, the Deity either
willed sin —which is inconsistent with His holiness
—or He did not will it, but passively permitted
it. But to what does this amount? He did not
prevent the actual occurrence of sin. Therefore,
He either would not — which would be inconsis-
tent with His goodness — or, in spite of His will
to the contrary, He could not, which would be in-
consistent with His omnipotence. On every side
reason is hedged in by a labyrinth of contra-
dictions as soon as it endeavours to explain the
Fall of Man, and the consequent introduction of
moral evil into the world. Without sin there is
no redemption, and without redemption there is
no Christianity. The revealed truths of the latter
are therefore mysteries, impenetrable to human
reason. By the philosophical propositions —nine-
teen in number — which Bayle opposes to these

352 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

theological propositions, he would prove that they
are utterly irreconcilable—that it is impossible
to demonstrate a speculative theology. The re-
sult of this criticism of faith is the contradiction
between revelation and reason. Nevertheless, his
intent is to oppose, not the authority of reve-
lation, but of reason, which is to bow humbly
before religion, believe implicitly, and, from all
the contradictions which it has discovered by its
acuteness, merely deduce its own nullity — its
inability to explain religion, and prove it on ra-
tional grounds. Not with religion, but with philo-
sophical scepticism, does Bayle conclude his inves-
tigations. Scepticism, as the act of doubt with
which reason retires and humbly professes its own
weakness, is, to him, true Christian philosophy.*
Practically, Bacon was honest in his intentions
with regard to his principles of faith; he wished
to pass for a good Calvinist; and that he might
live as such, he remained, contrary to his own
inclinations, inastate of voluntary exile. A phi-
losophy that ends in scepticism was congenial to
his own peculiar mind; which, with its encyclo-
pedic interest for historical variety, and its espe-
cially critical turn, could not tolerate the restraints
of system. But this very talent for criticism
which, in the case of Bayle, was combined with

* Compare the article “Pyrrhus,” in Bayle’s Dictionary.

oe

SCEPTICISM OF BAYLE. 353

boundless erudition, did not allow him to make
the interests of religious faith a real necessity of
the heart. He respected his creed; but faith
did not belong to his mental constitution, and
was still less compatible with his state of culture.
After he had satisfied his critical propensities,
given utterance to his doubts, discovered and
formulised all the contradictions that can be
urged by philosophy against the dogmas of the
church, it was easy for him to talk of the
subjection of reason to faith. His reason had
spoken its last word, and that had expressed the
contradiction between faith and reason; in other
words, the irrationality of faith. More than this
Bayle himself did not know. He could only dis-
cover and formulise contradiction; to solve it
was beyond his power. Contradiction was to
him a serious matter; his mind oscillated with
restless activity between religion and_philo-
sophy, or among the speculative systems of the
latter. Indeed, he himself was the living contra-
diction between faith and reason; the spirit of
contradiction incarnate, which, without becoming
untrue to itself, could at one blow convert all
the objections to faith into so many oppositions to
reason;—-nay, consistently with itself, could
not do otherwise. Thus alone can Bayle be
rightly understood; and thus understood, he cannot
AA

354 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

be called either a thorough believer or a thorough
unbeliever. He was utterly sceptical; he re-
mained a sceptic even in religion, even against his
will, —he could not help it. With him only one
point was firmly established, and that was the
impossibility of solving the doubts which reason
had introduced into matters of faith. Blind
faith” was the name that he gave to this impos-
sibility. But a faith that is the result of im-
potence, of whatever kind it be, will have this in
common with its origin—it will be weak. The
infirmity of reason will not give strength to
the faith that is based upon it. A want of be-
lief in reason will not give security to our faith
in revelation. There is, indeed, a faith that is
strong enough to do without reason or science,
and never to inquire after their doubts and ob-
jections. This all-sufficient, primitive, childlike
faith is confident in itself, whether it is met by
reason, with affirmation, or negation; indifferent
whether reason proves it with a “ because,” or
concedes it with an “although.” With reference
to this faith, which presupposes a childlike frame
of mind, the Gospel has pronounced a blessing on
‘‘the poor in spirit.” Of this blessed class Bayle
was not one; his mind was so rich, so various, so
diverse in its tendencies, that it could not possibly
become simple enough to enter the paradise of

SCEPTICISM OF BAYLE. 355

faith. Faith may be strong and lively even when
reason is weak, but it cannot become strong
through the weakness of reason. Doubt is ine
herent in the faith of Bayle, which is the mere
punctum finale of the doubting reason —the mute
boundary of thought. The faithful will do well
cautiously to avoid such an ally as Bayle. The faith
which sceptics gather from philosophy and offer
to religion is a gift of the Danai, which religion
had better refuse. An admission of Bayle’s faith
into Christianity would be an introduction of the
wooden horse into Troy, and the evils wrought by
this faith in the night would soon be lamentably
apparent, — there would be mere destructive
doubt. Bayle, when, with his criticism, he has
dissected and analysed faith, can no more recall it
to life, than an anatomist can convert the organ-
ised “subject” he has dismembered into a living
body ; unless, indeed, he calls Medea to assist him
with one of her spells. In a word, Bayle’s so-
called faith is nothing but a modified expression of
doubt, and the impossibility upon which it is
grounded is an incapacity in Bayle himself, which,
with the best intentions, he cannot convert into
a capacity —even a capacity for faith. Bayle,
like Bacon, requires the subordination of reason
to faith, and on the same grounds; but the
consciousness with which reason expresses her

ci mF

356 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

subordination is very different in these two
thinkers. Both are aware of the contradiction
between religion and philosophy; but Bacon glides
over it, while Bayle dwells upon it, and with
geometrical precision measures the chasm between
faith and reason. He has far more to say on the
subject of this contradiction than Bacon; and, in
the same proportion, the consciousness with which
he professes his subjection to faith is far less
naive, and seems verging on irony. Bacon did
not wish to contradict religion; Bayle contradicts
it actually ; the former withholds what he could
have alleged, the latter retracts what he has
alleged already, partly and voluntarily withdraw-
ing his opposition, when it is already a fait
accompli, the validity of which he could annul,
but which he could not undo. The doubts that he
had expressed he could not forget, the sharp cha-
racters on the tablet of his mind he could not again
efface, and with the most violent efforts he could
not become strong in faith, after he had brought
all his acuteness into play against it. That Bayle,
at the end, insisted on being that which, through
his own exertions, he could not possibly be —this
internal contradiction gives an ironical turn to his
confession of faith. However, it is not faith, but
himself, that Bayle ironises, when he lays down
the weapons of philosophy. The fact that his con-

ANGLO-GALLIC “ENLIGHTENMENT.” 357

fession of faith was honestly meant, by no means
destroys this self-irony, but rather strengthens it
by refinement. Hence Feuerbach rightly remarks:
** Scepticism was with Bayle an historical neces-
sity ; it was the concession that he made to faith ;
he was compelled to treat the very virtues of
reason as its defects. The consciousness of the
strength of reason expressed itself with ironical
humility in the name of its weakness.”

Il. Toe Anoio-Garuic “ ENLIGHTENMENT.”

In truth, however, faith cannot be denied with
more decided animosity, than when it is affirmed
in such a manner, and on such grounds; namely,
those of its contradiction to reason. What is left
for science, if deprived of every possibility of ob-
taining faith by rational grounds, of finding from
its own premisses a path that leads to religion ?
Now that Bacon and Bayle have established an op-
position between faith and reason, nothing is left for
the latter but an unconditional acknowledgnient or
an unconditional rejection of faith,—nothing but an
utter renunciation either of himself or of religion.
One thing is impossible; namely, that reason can
believe blindly. If it is not blind at all, it cannot
become so in particular cases. And, indeed, neither
Bacon nor Bayle, who both took so much pains
AA 3

358 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

to open the eyes of reason, could seriously intend
to render it blind. Therefore, by their demand
for blind faith, they could only mean that reason,
although not blind, is to assume blindness with re-
spect to religion; in other words, that it is to play
at blindness. Thus, as it progresses, the Baconian
philosophy leads not to a real, but to an apparent
faith, to a mere external acknowledgment, behind
which a consciousness of superiority is indulged
in with greater security, or a cold indifference is
concealed. ‘Thus this merely apparent faith is
either irony or indifference, if it is not altogether
hypocrisy. If reason will not endure such a
hollow and unworthy form, it can, on the Baconian
basis, merely take the position of utter rejection
with respect to positive religion. Following the
same criterion by which the superiority of reve-
lation has been shown, it now denies the system
of positive faith ; and of the very grounds on which
faith has been apparently affirmed, it even now
makes a ground of serious and thorough negation.
Under the auspices of Bacon and Bayle, “ en-
lightenment,” if it could not be inimical, indif-
ferent, or hypocritical, becomes absolutely and
openly unbelieving, losing not merely religious
belief, but belief in religion*, which it regards

* “ Nicht blos den Glauben in der Religion, sondern auch den
Glauben an die Religion.”

OPEN INFIDELITY. 359

as no more than superstition. Convinced that
it must itself become hypocritical to profess a
belief in divine revelation, this “ enlightenment”
is convinced that all who have ever believed in
such revelations are, or have been, hypocrites
themselves. As it carries about faith — if it does
not openly reject it— as a mere show, it thinks
it can have been no more than an empty show
from the beginning. Incapable of truly acknow-
ledging positive religion, it is equally incapable of
giving a true explanation of it. Since the merely
apparent faith is destitute of true grounds, it is
explained from grounds that are, in fact, the worst,
from mere selfish motives. As the so-called “en-
lightened ” can only adopt faith for external ends,
they fancy that it has never been professed for any
but worldly purposes. Thus, in the mind of the
Baconian “ enlightenment,” positive or historical
religion is transformed into a mere creature of
human delusion, to be explained by selfish mo-
tives ; and the whole history of religion becomes a
pragmatic narrative of superstition, hypocrisy, and
priestcraft ; in a word, a record of the maladies
of the human mind. These are the features that
characterise the “enlightenment” of the last
century in England, and, more especially, in
France, in its relation to religion. It raised its

voice against positive religion in all those keys,
AA4

360 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.,

which, though they had not been prescribed by
Bacon and Bayle, alone remained possible. As
it could not adopt a blind faith, and saw in
reason no foundation for religion, it therefore
made religion a mere toy, treating it sometimes
with contemptuous irony, sometimes with super-
cilious indifference, and, on occasions, with hypo-
critical reverence. When it proceeded honestly
and critically (after its own fashion), it treated
positive religion with all possible contempt, so
explaining it, as utterly to reduce it to supersti-
tion, hypocrisy, and hierarchical imposture; thus
turning all which had been accepted and believed,
as a divine revelation, into a sport of the human
will. Its explanations of historical religion were
as negative as they were superficial and shallow ;
indeed, they could not be otherwise on the given
premisses. These were couched in the formula
already determined by Bacon and Bayle for the
relation between faith and reason; namely, the
proposition that the credibility of the divine reve-
lation was strengthened by its incompatibility
with reason. This formula had two sides. Its
obverse or positive side was revealed in Bacon
and Bayle; its reverse or negative side, in Bo-
_lingbroke and Voltaire. © Whereas Bacon had
declared that the more a divine mystery was
opposed to reason, the more must it be believed

OPEN INFIDELITY. 361

for the honour of the Deity; the other party |
said, “ The rather must it be rejected for the
honour of human reason.” In the light of these
modern thinkers, the casual expression by which
Bacon compared the articles of faith with the
rules of a game, became more portentous and
significant than he had intended. Bolingbroke
and Voltaire, with their whole train of adherents,
really thought of religion as a game, the rules of
which had been devised for selfish ends by the
human will, and passed off as divine revelations.
Thus they explained religion according to their
own notion of it, and such an explanation, for-
sooth, was then called the “enlightenment” of
the world on the subject of religion.

Such is the relation between positive religion
and the Baconian “enlightenment.” Itis only the
exponent of this relation that we exhibit. The
relation of a philosophy to religion furnishes a
standard by which the scientific dimensions of
the philosophic mind may best be ascertained ;
namely, on what degree of elevation it stands,
how far its vision extends, how deeply it pene-
trates the nature of things, and, above all, the
nature of man. Let it be conceded that religion
is the principal representative * of historical life

* “Triiger,” literally the “ bearer” or « supporter.’’— J. O,

362 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

on a grand scale, and philosophy the chief repre-
sentation of scientific culture as a whole, and we
may lay it down as a canon that the relation of
philosophy to religion is the same as its relation to
history. If it is unable to explain religion, it is
doubtless without all capacity for the interpreta-
tion of history, will never be able to appreciate
the mental temperaments and motives of others,
and will always judge a former age by the analogy
of its own, —a proceeding as fallacious as that of
contemplating the things of nature “ ex analogia
hominis” (as Bacon says) and not “ex analogia
mundi.” Philosophy is incapable of explaining
religion, when it either denies it as superstitious,
or deduces it from motives which are otherwise
than religious. Such is the judgment of the
Anglo-Gallic “ enlightenment ” as represented by
its most audacious spirits. Its mode of thought
was intrinsically unhistorical; from its very first
beginning it proposed to separate religion from
philosophy, revelation from nature, faith from
reason, and set them utterly at variance with each
other. In the separation effected by Bacon and
Bayle there was already a complete though an
internal rupture, which of necessity soon had an
external expression. According to the Baconian
view, religion, which is the central point of human
life, lay beyond the boundaries of reason; and

UNHISTORICAL PHILOSOPHY. 363

therefore reason was beyond the boundaries of
history, being just as unhistorical in its ideas
as it esteemed religion irrational in its revela-
tions. Religion appeared to reason merely theo-
logical, while reason itself was only naturalistic.
History altogether, no less than religion, was to
this philosophy, beyond the extreme boundary of
its understanding.* The boundary, which Bacon
and Bayle have set up between religion and phi-
losophy, constitutes, in fact, the boundary that
separates their philosophy and their reason from
history. And it is clear why the Baconian
understanding must have this limit. Its aim is
a practical knowledge of the world, a utilitarian
science; its scientific method is experimental
experience. Tested by this aim, religion must
appear an indifferent object; compared with this
method, it must appear irrational. Even with
its founder realistic philosophy was alien to re-
ligion; with his successors its position became
hostile, the last (scientific) ground of the hostility
being, on the side of philosophy, no other than
the incapability of thinking historically.

* Dr. Fischer also says it was the “Ding an sich;” but the
passage is complete without this simile, borrowed from the
Kantian philosophy.—J. O.

364 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

III. Toe German “ ENLIGHTENMENT.”

TAKING other points of view, the German “ en-
lightenment” aimed at different results; in its
very origin it contemplated a union between re-
velation and nature, between faith and reason.
In this respect Leibnitz stands in diametrical
opposition to Bacon and Bayle; and for the pur-
pose of maintaining and defending this opposition,
he wrote his “ Theodicée.” This book was not,
indeed, the most profound and adequate repre-
sentative of the Leibnitzian philosophy, which,
even to the present time, is properly known by
extremely few persons; but it was not without
reason that it became the most popular of his
works, and was read by all the educated com-
munity of Europe. It was directed immediately
against Bayle, as a “ confession” of the German
mind, in opposition to the Anglo-Gallic. That
*‘ negative instance,” which Bayle had advanced
against the philosophy of religion generally,
against all rational faith— namely, the Fall of
Man and the introduction of sin into the world—
the Leibnitzian “'Theodicée” was intended to
explain. It was, at that time, the only explana-
tion with which philosophy extended the hand of
friendship to religion; and to the very depth of

LEIBNITZ. 365

his thought Leibnitz was thoroughly in earnest
with respect to this reconciliation. He had the
idea of a rational religion that, far from opposing
positive faith, should adopt and, to a certain ex-
tent, regulate it. But had not Bacon likewise
this thought of a “ natural religion or theology?”
Yes, nominally, but not really. What Bacon
called natural religion was the notion of a Deity,
obscured by the medium of mundane objects; an
acknowledgment of the existence of Gop derived
from the observation of the orderly arrangement
of nature; a doubtful conclusion founded upon
doubtful premisses. And, even setting the doubt-
fulness aside, this so-called natural religion, this
idea of God, is a mere reflection of the human
understanding, not a divine revelation. Now it
was as a divine revelation that Leibnitz under-
stood his natural religion. By him the idea of
God was regarded as an eternal original datum
in the human soul, as an idea innate in the mind,
and derived immediately from God Himself. What
Leibnitz called natural religion was the natural
revelation of God in the human mind, which could
not possibly be in contradiction with the historical
revelation ; as in that case, God would have con-
tradicted Himself. Hence, to a certain extent,
Leibnitz made nature a criterion of revealed re-
ligion. He was the positive, as Bayle was the

366 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

negative critic of faith. Whatever in positive re-
ligion was contradictory to human reason was not to
be believed ; whatever transcended it was to be ac-
knowledged. He drew a distinction between the
super-rational and the anti-rational—-a distinction
well grounded in the spirit of his philosophy, but
which could not be made by Bacon and Bayle,
who identified the super-rational with the anti-
rational, and made the latter their positive criterion
of faith. Why ? Because they deduced all positive
or revealed religion from the divine will (Will-
hihr), because they recognised no sort of neces-
sity in the Deity. That which is affected by
the mere motiveless will, whatever that will may
be, does not admit of any justification by reason, is
under no law, and is therefore anti-rational. With
Leibnitz, on the contrary, the divine revelations
were regulated by a law, and therefore rational,
even if this reason was not to be comprehended
by that of man. Why? Because Leibnitz ex-
plained by the divine Wisdom what the others
deduced from the mere will; because, according
to his idea of God, there could be no place for a
mere motiveless will in the most rational of all
beings.

We adhere to our assertion that the relation of
philosophy to religion is the same with its relation
to history. If philosophy excludes religion, it is

GERMAN ‘“ ENLIGHTENMENT.” 367

incapable of thinking historically ; and in this pre-
dicament is the Anglo-Gallic “ enlightenment.”
Tf, on the other hand, philosophy comprehends
and penetrates religion, it has, at least, a funda-
mental capacity for thinking historically ; and this
is the case with the German “ enlightenment.”
In its foundation it unites religion and reason by
the idea of rational religion, which is itself re-
garded as a revelation, and seeks a harmony with
positive or historical religion, as its ultimate goal.
Before this goal was clearly apprehended, an op-
position between reason and revelation, between
natural and historical religion, was to be found
even within the precincts of the German “ en-
lightenment.” Here, also, was an age which
remained involved in this opposition, and was,
therefore, utterly unable to explain history ;
although the explanations it advanced were much
more serious and profound than those given in
England and France. To prove this, we need
only compare a Reimarus with a Bolingbroke or a
Voltaire! But with us, this opposition, at the
foundation of which lay a reconciliation, sought to
be reconciled anew, and conduced in itself to a
more thorough solution of the problem, which
was innate in the German “ enlightenment,” and
could only be solved in one way. So long as
natural religion was regarded as alone true and

368 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

possible (as in the ordinary “ enlightenment” of
the school of Wolf), historical religion could only
be regarded as an outward show, to be explained,
on closer investigation, by a reference to worldly
motives;—so long was it impossible to get
beyond a stubborn and exclusive opposition. To
terminate this it was necessary to discover the
affinity and connection between natural and histo-
rical religion, to comprehend the latter in its
religious nature. Now the religious nature of an
historical faith is never to be discovered by a
merely logical understanding, but requires an
historical understanding that is able to apprehend
its peculiarities, to appreciate notions and emo-
tions different from its own, and to explain them
from their historical antecedents. An explana-
tion of historical facts from historical antecedents,
is a recognition of a necessity in history, and is
what we call “historical thinking ;” which is,
in fact, natural thinking with respect to history.
The historical, as distinguished from the abstract
logical understanding, comprehends that human
“enlightenment” does not date from the pre-
sent moment, but consists of a gradually pro-
gressive process of culture, and is of a universally
historical nature ; so that the actual state of “ en-
lightenment” only represents a state of elevation
corresponding to its period. Thus all religion,

HISTORICAL UNDERSTANDING. 369

indeed human culture generally, is to be com-
prehended and vindicated not from the present
point of view, but from the peculiar conditions
of its own age. Compared with the state of
thought in its own age, historical religion appears
not as the opposite of that thought, but as
its element and basis. From its very founda-
tion, German “ enlightenment” was compelled to
think historically; the foundation was already
established in Leibnitz, it was developed in
Winckelmann, Lessing, and Herder, while no
advance could be made during the age that was
governed by Christian Wolf and his school.
Lessing, above all, liberated the historical under-
standing, and in his “ Education of the Human
Race” (Erziehung des Menschengeschlechts) com-
prehended and vindicated positive religion in a
corresponding spirit. The relation of Leibnitz
to his contemporary Bayle is the same as that
of Lessing to his contemporary Voltaire. In-
deed, Leibnitz is distinguished from Locke and
Bayle, and Lessing from Voltaire, just as the
German “enlightenment” is distinguished from
the Anglo-Gallic. The two bases are as different
from each other as the two nations. The philo-
sophy founded by Bacon liberated the natural
understanding, investigating, developing, and es-
tablishing it in a sphere from which the histo-
BB

370 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

rical understanding was excluded. The philoso-
phy founded by Leibnitz produced from its own
resources the historical understanding, which did
not exclude the natural understanding ; but subor-
dinated it to itself. In opposition to Bacon and
Descartes, it considered nature, according to our
human analogy, as a progressive series that rose
up to man as its unconscious goal. Thus nature,
as it were, “ preforms” history, while it organises
man. Thus, from its very origin, the philosophy
of nature is destined to become a philosophy of
history, and from this point of view the historical
philosophy of a Herder, and the subsequent natu-
ral philosophy of a Schelling, are to be judged.
Herder, in his “Ideas towards the History of
Man,” speculates on the hypotheses of natural
history; Schelling, in his “Ideas towards the
Philosophy of Nature,” speculates on the results
of historical philosophy. And perhaps Schelling
has not advanced natural science so much as phi-
losophical history; perhaps he has not so much
explained nature itself, as the religion of nature.
While the Anglo-Gallic ‘ enlightenment” was
only naturalistic from its very foundation, and
therefore remained uncongenial to the historical
process of human culture, the German “enlighten-
ment” was, in its very purpose, humanistic. It
attained its end in Kant. But the Kantian epoch

KANT. 371

is also of import for the Anglo-Gallic philosophy,
which, as it progressed, had been impelled to a
point where it had found itself compelled to call
in question the natural understanding and its
knowledge. Here it occupied the mind of Kant,
and gave this mind the last and most effectual
impulse towards a thoroughly new inquiry re-
specting the nature of human knowledge. It
was then itself carried out further by Kant, and
resulted in the German philosophy.

BB 2

372 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

CHAP. XII.

THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY CONSIDERED IN ITS RELATION TO
HISTORY AND THE PRESENT.

IF we compare the Baconian philosophy with his-
tory, its limit, as well as its contradiction, becomes
clear beyond the possibility of mistake. The in-
terpretation of history is manifestly a necessary
problem of a real exact science, inasmuch as his-
tory itself belongs to reality. Now the Baconian
philosophy is incapable of interpreting history.
This incapacity is its limit. Nay, it is even
aware of this limit, and by clearly-expressed judg-
ments, that show self-knowledge, has excluded
from its precincts the elementary ideas requisite
for the interpretation of history. These elemen-
tary ideas are the human mind and religion. The
mind is the subject and supporter of all history ;
religion is the basis of all human culture. If we
cannot explain the mind, how can we explain the
development of the mind, which is, in fact, history
itself? Bacon has defined the essence of the
human mind as the unknown and unperceivable
magnitude, that does not enter his philosophical

LIMIT OF THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 373

calculations. How can he, to whom religion is
a sealed mystery, explain its radiations in art,
science, morals, and politics? How can the
effects be known without the cause? Bacon him-
self has defined religion as an irrational object,
and represented it to the human reason as an
impenetrable “Beyond” (Jenseits). But reli-
gion is no such “ Beyond,” neither is the human
mind. Both are powers of real life —the former
an essential factor, the latter the sole subject of
all history.

The realistic philosophy, which not only origi-
nates in the Baconian, but finds in it its widest
sphere of vision, should not fall short of the spirit
of reality. The unreal it may indeed exclude;
but that which is real, which is given, which is
an undeniable fact, it is bound to explain. It
therefore contradicts itself, when it excludes his-
torical reality, and regards the motive powers of
that reality as insoluble mysteries. It falls short
of the real world. History is the impenetrable
residue, which will not be assimilated with the
Baconian philosophy. The limit of the latter,
which is not set by us, but imposed by itself,
constitutes a self-contradiction.

BB 3

374 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

I. BAcon’s UnuistoricAL Mops or THouanutr.

THIS contradiction may be pursued into its
details. Bacon, in the well-justified spirit of
realistic philosophy, has required an interpreta-
tion of history, and explained the nature of his
requisition in precepts, than which nothing could
be more suited to the purpose. He knew very
well what he meant by the interpretation of
history. But he has not complied with his own
requisitions. When he himself enters the field
of history, he does not so much explain as
describe ; and even when he does make an attempt
to explain historical subjects, his attempts are in
manifest contradiction not only with the historical
method, but also with his own method of inter-
pretation, which was based on the correct prin-
ciple that things should be judged, not according
to human analogies, but according to their own
objective relations; in other words, that we
should not accommodate the things to ourselves,
but ourselves to the nature of the things. This
principle of interpretation, which is alone correct
and natural, requires, when applied to history,
that the things of history should be measured and
judged by their own standard; not as they are

UNHISTORICAL VIEW. 375

related to us, but as they are related to them-
selves, their age and its conditions. And how
did Bacon carry out this principle, which he had
so urgently recommended, in his own historical
explanations and judgments? He acted in direct
‘opposition to it. He judged all preceding philo-
sophers, the Platos and the Aristotles, not in
reference to their age, but simply by comparing
them with his own views. Whatever corre-
sponded with these was affirmed; whatever was
opposed to them, was denied and rejected as
absurd. He made his own philosophy the stan-
dard of all others, judging and interpreting the
historical manifestations of science merely by this
analogy, than which nothing could be more sub-
jective. In the same spirit he explained the
* Wisdom of the Ancients.” He assumed that
the old myths were parables, and then assumed
that these parables symbolised certain natural
and moral truths in order to introduce his own
moral and physical views. Thus the fable of Eros
was made to harmonise with the theory of Demo-
critus, and this theory with his own. But surely
these assumptions were no more than a series of
* anticipations of the intellect” vying with each
other in their arbitrary character. Such “ antici-
pations” were made by Bacon himself, who placed
at the very summit of his method the declaration
BB 4

376 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

that there ought to be no “ anticipatio mentis,”
but only an “interpretatio nature,’—a_ tho-
roughly unprejudiced and natural interpretation
of things! Ought any exception to be made to
the application of the general principle? If none,
why did Bacon himself make an exception in
the case of the myths? He explains these by
preconceived notions, by “ anticipations” of the
most arbitrary kind. The Baconian interpreta-
tion converts these poetic fictions into common-
places, and understands nothing of their living
peculiarity, nothing of their historical origin,
nothing of their poetical and national character.
By this allegorical interpretation poetry becomes
prose, and Greek imagination is changed into
un-Greek thought. Moreover, every allegorical
interpretation is necessarily teleological, for it sees
and explains nothing in its object, but its didac-
tic purpose —a tendency which it either elicits
or supposes. Every fable has a moral—is a
production with a purpose, and as such must
be interpreted. But from the methodical, or se-
verely scientific method of interpretation, Bacon
has rejected all teleology. Why, then, has he a
merely teleological interpretation for the fictions
of the ancients; or, rather, why does he turn the
myths into fables, by a very unnatural and vio-
lent interpretation, giving them a purpose which

MISAPPREHENSION OF POETRY. 377

manifestly does not belong to them? Why, ge-
nerally, does he regard allegory as the highest
species of poetry? Allegory is a prosaic work,
composed for a purpose; a poetical work is a
product of genius. The genial creation of poetry
is nearly akin to natural generation. Why, then,
did Bacon expressly insist that nature should not
be explained by final causes, when, according to
the same Bacon, the highest kind of poetry re-
sulted from a reflection on ends and purposes?
We see how unnatural, according to his own
view of nature, was Bacon’s apprehension of the
essence of poetry, how imperfectly he perceived
its natural source. ‘The creative imagination he
did not comprehend; he treated allegory as the
highest poetry, and lyrical poetry as none at all.*

The contradiction which we have indicated, is
obvious enough. Bacon’s historical explanations
and judgments are in contradiction to the method
of interpretation which he himself introduced.
According to this, the facts of reality are to be
comprehended with reference to their causes ; but
it does not comprehend the sense of poetry, of
consciousness, of religion; it confesses that, by
its light, the mind and religion both appear irra-
tional facts. It requires an explanation of things
without subjective prejudices, without human

* Compare chap. vi.

378 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

analogy. But Bacon’s historical interpretations
and judgments are according to the exclusive
standard of his own philosophy. By this he ex-
plains poetic fictions, by this he pronounces
judgment on the systems of the past. Will it
be said that Bacon could have avoided these con-
tradictions; that he could have applied his scien-
tific method to historical subjects with greater
fidelity and with more success; that, by a mere
accidental deficiency, he fell short of his own
principles? Such a judgment would be as in-
considerate as it would be incorrect. On the con-
trary, we must rather maintain that the Baconian
method is in itself insufficient for the interpre-
tation of history; that it is not equal to historical
reality; that through its very principles it ex-
cludes the ideas that correspond to historical
forces; that Bacon is, in fact, consistent with his
method, while he seems to act in opposition to
its highest precepts. His method is adapted to
nature, so far as this differs toto celo from mind;
to mindless, mechanical, blindly working nature
— to nature, that can be forced by experiment to
reveal her laws, that will allow her secrets to be
wrung from her by levers and screws. This me-
thod is only intended to be thinking experience ;
it unites the understanding and the sensuous per-
ceptions, and, through its very principle, excludes

DEFECT OF THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 379

imagination from the contemplation of things.
But can that which is made by the imagination
be explained without the imagination? Can a
mode of interpretation which, on principle, re-
nounces all imagination, be fitted for poetry and
art? It may serve to explain machines, but not
poetic creations. Can religion be explained with-
out art, or history without religion? Is history,
the living mind of man, to be approached by ex-
periments? By what experiment can we explain
the plastic power revealed in the poems of Homer
and the statues of Phidias ?

In the same degree that the Baconian method
is adapted to nature, it is repugnant to history.
Where nature has her limit that separates her
from mind, there is the limit of the Baconian
method—I do not say of the Baconian mind.
Bacon’s judgments, through the very circumstance
that they are repugnant to history, are consistent
with his method, which requires, once for all,
that no truths shall be allowed to stand but such
as are confirmed by experience in nature and in
human life. It rejects, without scruple, every
philosophy that misapprehends these empirical
truths; and professes to have made the discovery
that, in the earliest ages, a philosophy akin to
poetry stood nearest to these empirical truths —
nearer than any system that followed. In its

380 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

own interest, it assumes the fact that, in the
oldest philosophy and the oldest poetry, there
was no other foundation than these empirical
truths which it had itself approved. These must
be found in the myths which must be interpreted
from this point of view. Thus it is the Baconian
method itself which offers an impediment to his-
torical interpretation. Bacon’s methodical inter-
pretation of nature is, from its foundation, no
more able to afford an interpretation of history
than nature, as he understands her, to produce the
human mind from her own resources. We draw
a distinction here between the interpretation and
the investigation of history. The former explains
and comprehends the facts, which the latter seeks,
establishes, and describes; they are as distinct
from each other as description from explanation,
history from science, according to the Baconian
view. It is only with respect to the science of
history that I maintain that the Baconian method
is not the proper key. In the investigation of
history, as of nature, it serves as an apt guide, as
the only possible instrument for the discovery
and establishment of facts. The first considera-
tion everywhere is, the guestio facti. Facts,
whether they belong to history or nature, can
only be found by the Baconian method. To find
these, the investigator, whether of history or

‘NATURE AND HISTORY. 381

of nature, requires his own experience and ob-
servation; he must draw his facts from sources
which he himself has tested; and to sift them he
must exercise a comparative criticism of sources,
which is impossible without a careful weighing
of positive and negative instances—a process that
may be abbreviated and conducted by the same
means that Bacon, in his “ Novum Organum,”
has pointed out to the investigator of nature.
The discovery of facts is, in all cases, the result
of a correct method of inquiry; and this, for every
case, is exactly what Bacon has formulised. The
facts of history, like those of nature, are only to
be discovered by a just experience, the logic of
which has been laid down by Bacon for every
case. But, on the other hand, there is an essen-
tial difference between the interpretation of na-
ture and the interpretation of history; they are
as distinct as their objects, nature and mind; and
Bacon himself, whose understanding was greater
than his method, has admitted that the latter is
incapable of explaining the mind. Nature pre-
sents him only with facts; but history opposes
his ideas with other ideas (Begriffe), which he
must deny, in order to establish his own. The
ideas that have become historical appear to him
as “idola theatri;” and, with respect to these,
his method and his philosophy become an “ anti-

382 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

cipatio mentis.” The futility of all earlier sys-
tems becomes, with Bacon, an historical prejudice;
and with this prejudice his historical explanations
and judgments are connected. He thinks only of
the present and the future, which he will enrich
and liberate from the past; therefore he denies
the past; but the past is history.

II. Bacon AnD MACAULAY.

EASILY comprehensible and great as this mode of
thought appears in Bacon, whose vocation it was
to effect a reformation in science, just as strange
and just as much the reverse of great must it
appear to us when, in our own times, an eminent
investigator of history pays unconditional homage
to the Baconian mode of thought, and extols it
with a fanatical partiality that was altogether
foreign to the founder himself: We are surprised,
at the present day, to find a mode of thought ad-
hered to, in that exclusive spirit that was neces-
sary, two centuries and a half ago, to constitute an
epoch that was subject to the conditions of its
age; to find it adhered to by an historian who, |
above all others, should be sensible to the differ-
ence of times, and, more especially, should main-
tain the historical against the physical point of
view; or, at any rate, should not overlook the

MACAULAY AND DE MAISTRE, 383

boundary between them which Bacon himself has
observed. Nevertheless, Mr. Macaulay uncon-
ditionally takes up the cause of practical against
theoretical philosophy, designating the former by
Bacon’s name; and in this spirit he repeats, and
even heightens, the Baconian criticism of anti-
quity. To show the value of the practical philo-
sophy above the theoretic, Mr. Macaulay exerts
all his energies, pressing down the scale of the
latter with every possible weight, to such a de-
gree that the theoretical scale kicks the beam
and loses all weight whatever. He associates
practical interests, as he calls them, with Baconian
philosophy, in the same uncompromising spirit
that is evinced by De Maistre when he opposes
the Baconian philosophy in the interest of reli-
gion. The relation of them both to Bacon most
happily reflects the opposition between the En-
glish utilitarian and the French “ romanticist.”
Compared with each other, the two portraits are
of very different value, and we have no hesitation
as to our preference. Assuredly a De Maistre
cannot vie with a Macaulay. Compared with
their original, both portraits will be found unlike,
and exaggerated in that “ belletristic” style that
is ill-adapted for the enunciation of truth. Of
the philosopher Bacon, De Maistre would make
the Satan, Macaulay the God of Philosophy.

384 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

Such exaggerations may answer our modern novel-
readers, but they can instruct nobody. With re-
spect to Mr. Macaulay, we have two questions to
propose : — First, What is the import of that
opposition between practical and theoretic philo-
sophy of which he is always talking? Secondly,
What has his practical philosophy to do with
Bacon?

Mr. Macaulay decides on the part of philo-
sophy with a ready formula that, like many of
the kind, dazzles with words which really mean
nothing ;— words which appear the more empty
and obscure, the more closely they are investi-
gated. He says that philosophy should be for
the sake of man, not man for the sake of philo-
sophy; in the former case it is practical, in the
second theoretic. He is in favour of the former
and against the latter; the former he cannot suffi-
ciently extol, the latter he cannot make sufficiently
ridiculous. According to Macaulay, the Baco-
nian philosophy is practical, the pra-Baconian
and, more especially, the ancient philosophy, is
theoretic. This opposition he carries to its ex-
treme, and gives us an exaggerated representation,
not in an unadorned shape, but in a figurative
disguise, in aptly-devised images, so that practical
philosophy always wears an imposing or alluring
form, while theoretical philosophy is made to

FINE WRITING. 385

look repulsive. By this play of words he wins
the multitude, who catch at images, like children.
Of practical philosophy he makes (not so much
his principle as) his point, and-of theoretical his
target. Thus the opposition acquires something
of a dramatic interest, and this involuntarily en-
lists the sympathies of the reader, who forgets
the scientific question; and, provided the writer is
unsparing of the images and metaphors with which
he contrives to amuse the fancy, nothing more is
required by the understanding, Every one of his
words is a lucky throw, a good shot. He who,
with a certain degree of facility, with a certain
mastery over dramatic effect, knows how to con-
vert principles into points, ideas into metaphors,
can now-a-days achieve incredible victories over
the bare truth. We have seen in Germany how,
under such forms, every absurdity can make its
way. Indeed, with us, even unadorned absurdity
is not safe from public veneration. By the mere
art of words, a grain of truth may be so blown
out that, in the eyes of the multitude, who only
judge by appearances, it may seem to be whole
tons in weight. Thus, for instance, sensualism
and materialism, which haye a grain of truth, may
be so expanded, may be screwed up to such a
height, that they seem to leave no room for any-
thing else. Feuerbach has found a great deal of
Cc

386 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

talent necessary, and has expended a vast number
of startling and dazzling antitheses to give a
brilliant aspect to materialism; but his disciples,
without a spark of talent, can make this ounce of
truth infinitely luxuriant in its growth. But as
Feuerbach uses the party-cry of sensual, as op-
posed to speculative philosophy, so is the ery of
practical against theoretical philosophy, raised by
Macaulay. The chief object is not that the ideas
shall be correct, but that the words shall be
pointed. What does Mr. Macaulay mean when
he says that philosophy should be for man, not
man for philosophy ; when he rejects theoretical
philosophy because it makes itself the end, and
man the means to that end; when he says that,
in his eyes, practical has to theoretical philosophy
the relation of deeds to words— of fruit to thorns
—of an advancing army to a treadmill, where
with all our turning, we still remain at the same ©
spot? WhenI read dazzling phrases of this kind,
I am reminded of the Socratic expression: “ They
are indeed said, but are they said right?” If we
interpret Macaulay’s words strictly, no philosophy
in the world was ever practical; for never was there
one that arose merely from so-called practical
considerations, and not from philosophical consi-
derations likewise. Just as little has there been
a theoretical philosophy; for there has never been

WHAT Im, PRACTICAL PHILOSOPHY? 387

one which had not for its motive a human neces-
sity —that is to say, a practical interest.

We see to what this reckless play upon words
ultimately tends. It defines theoretical and prac-
tical philosophy by means of a definition that will
not fit a single real instance. The antithesis says
absolutely nothing. Let us dismiss the antithesis
and confine ourselves to the sober, intelligible opi-
nion, that the value of a theory depends wholly
on its applicability —on its practical influence on
human life—on the use that we can derive from
it. Utility alone is to decide the value of theory.
Be it so; but who shall decide what is useful ?
All things are useful that conduce to the satisfac-
tion of human wants, whether they be objects in
themselves, or means towards objects. But who
shall decide what is a human want? Wetake Ma-
caulay’s point of view, and perfectly agree with him
that philosophy should be practical, that it should
serve the purposes of man, that it should satisfy,
or, at any rate, conduce to the satisfaction of his
wants; and that, if it does not, it is useless, and
consequently worthless. Now, supposing that
there are wants in human nature that imperiously
demand satisfaction, that, when unsatisfied, render
life a torment, is not that which satisfies these
wants to be deemed practical? If some of these
are of such a kind that they can only be satisfied by

cc 2

388 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

knowledge — that is, by theory — is not this theory
to be deemed useful? nay, must it not be so in the
eyes of the most determined utilitarian? More-
over, it is very possible that there are more wants
inhuman nature than the utilitarian imagines, and
that all these wants will not be contented with the
modicum of satisfaction that he offers. It is pos-
sible that what the utilitarian terms theoretical
philosophy, appears useless and sterile to him
merely because his own notions of human nature
are too narrow and sterile. The question really
is, what idea do we form of man. According to
this idea we estimate human wants; and as our
view of these wants is narrower or broader, we
decide on the utility of science and the value of
philosophy. But it is a rash and unseemly pro-
ceeding to begin by commanding man to have
only so many wants, and then inferring that he
requires only so much philosophy. To judge
by Macaulay’s examples, his notions of human
nature lead to no very great results. “If we are
forced,” says Macaulay, “‘to make our choice
between the first shoemaker, and the author of
the three books ‘On Anger’ (Seneca), we pro-
nounce for the shoemaker. It may be worse to
be angry than to be wet. But shoes have kept
millions from being wet; and we doubt whether
Seneca ever kept any one from being angry.”

WHAT IS PRACTICAL PHILOSOPHY? 389

I certainly should not select Seneca for my
target if I meant to hit theoretical philosophy ;
and still less should I choose those whom Mr. Ma-
caulay prefers to Seneca, for my allies, if I wished
to drive the theorists out of the field. With such
auxiliaries it would be possible enough. Macau-
lay throws things very different from the sword
of Brennus into the scale that he would make
the heavier! However, he ought not merely to
doubt, but know whether the meditations of a
philosopher (even of a Seneca) are absolutely
without avail against human passions; whether
they do not confer equanimity on the human soul,
and render it stronger in the presence of death
than it would be without them. To oppose one
example with another, I can mention a philo-
sopher far more profound than Seneca, and, in the
eyes of Macaulay, likewise an unpractical thinker,
to whom the power of theory was far greater than
the power of nature and the ordinary wants of
humanity. Through his meditations alone was
Socrates cheerful when he drank the cup of
poison! Of all ills, is there any that exceeds the
fear of death in the human soul? There are,
indeed, many who would rather get rid of death,
than the fear of it; who would rather lengthen
their lives, than be so armed in every case that
they could look death calmly and cheerfully in the

cc 3

390 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

face. All these would have considered Socrates
more practical, if he had taken the advice of Crito,
and escaped from his prison at Athens, to die of
old age in Beeotia or elsewhere. Socrates himself
thought it more practical to remain in prison, and,
as the first martyr to the liberty of the mind, to
mount up to the gods from the height of his
theory. Thus, in every case, man’s own wants
decide upon the practical value of an action or a
thought, and these, again, are determined by the
nature of the human soul. The difference of
wants corresponds to the difference in individuals
and in periods. Mr. Macaulay makes a particular
class of human wants—those of ordinary life —
the standard of science; and; on this account, he
abjures theoretic, and narrows practical philosophy.
This standard is as little suited to himself as to
the nature of the human mind. If he had not
other and higher wants than those which are
satisfied by his practical philosophy, he would not
have been a great historian, but one of those whom
he prefers to Seneca. His practical philosophy is
to the human mind what a tight shoe is to the
foot; it pinches, and a pinching shoe is a bad
preservative against wet.

We do not render human life more easy by
narrowing science. ‘The attempt to dam up the
stream, however well meant — nay, however ad-

WHAT IS PRACTICAL PHILOSOPHY? 391

vantageous it may be for the moment — is, after all,
an attempt to destroy the scientific impulse itself
in the mindofman. And, indeed, the first attempt
can only attain a permanent success, on the sup-
position that success has attended the second. As
long as the desire of knowledge is an active want in
our inmost nature, so long must we strive to satisfy
this want, for this purely practical purpose — strive
after knowledge in all things, even in those the
explanation of which does not in any way conduce
to our external prosperity, which are of no use
beyond the foundation of that intellectual clearness
which is their result. So long as religion, art, and
science actually exist as an intellectual creation
by the side of the physical ; — and the ideal world
will not cease till the material world has ceased
also ; so long will man feel a necessity to direct
his attention to those objects and to produce within
himself a copy of the ideal world, as well as a
copy of the world of nature. In other words, he
will feel himself practically compelled, by an in-
ternal necessity, to attempt the theoretical culti-
vation of his mind. This has been the aim of the
thinkers of antiquity, the ancients, of the middle
ages, and of our own times; though all have
proceeded in their own manner. It is true
that neither the theories of the ancients nor those

ve '¢

392 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

of the schoolmen are any longer suited to our
necessities ; for our world has changed, and with
it our mode of thought. But an unconditional
rejection of those theories, is only a misappre-
hension of the sense that lay at the foundation of
them all, as a mental necessity ; that is to say,
we say we judge of antiquity in a mind that is
foreign to its spirit, and apply to its theories a
theory of our own that, being wholly inapplicable
and therefore unfruitful, may be ranked among
the phantasms of the brain. This non-historical
mode of thought was Bacon’s defect, in which
Macaulay participates. In Bacon’s eyes, the
theories of classical antiquity were “ Idols;” in
ours, the Baconian theory of antiquity is an
* Tdol” in its turn. To him, the philosophies
of a Plato and an Aristotle appear as “ Idola
theatri;” to us, these very views appear “ Idola
specus et fori ”—personal and national prejudices.
Bacon has as much misapprehended the spirit of
history as the ancients, in his opinion, misappre-
hended the laws of nature.

But by rejecting theory altogether — not
merely the theories of the past, but the contem-
plative mind, as an entire genus, simply because
it has not an immediate influence on practical life,
we close our eyes not only against history, but
also against man and the wants of humanity —

BACON AND MACAULAY. 393

we overlook an impulse that belongs to the very
elements of our nature. This mode of thought,
so opposed to nature, is the defect of Macaulay,
in which Bacon does not participate. Bacon
thought too highly of the practical mind of man
to lessen or straiten the theoretical. He wished
to raise the former to the dominion of the world ;
and therefore he wished to enlighten the latter
into knowledge of the world. He was well aware
that our power is proportioned to our knowledge ;
and therefore, to use his favourite expression, he
wished to found in the human mind a temple after
the model of the universe. According to him,
science ought to be a copy of the actual world,
which he could not, indeed, complete himself, but
which, he hoped, would be completed in the
course of ages. In this copy, according to his
view, nothing, however small, should be wanting ;
for everything that is, he thought, has a right
to be known; and it is the interest of man to
know everything. Science appeared to his mind
a work of art, the perfection of which was his
grand object. His great mind saw that the com-
pletest science would establish the completest
dominion, and that a gap in science would be a
weakness in life. What does science appear to
the eyes of Bacon? A temple raised in the
human mind after the model of the universe.

394 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

What does it appear in the eyes of Macaulay?
A convenient dwelling-house, fashioned to ac-
commodate the wants of practical life. Macaulay
is quite satisfied if we can carry science far enough
to provide a place of safety for our goods and
chattels, and, above all, shelter ourselves from the
wet. The majesty of the edifice, and its perfec-
tion according to the model of the world, is to
him a useless appendage— mere superfluous and
hurtful luxury. Bacon did not take such a mean
view of the subject. In the highest sense of the
word, he was earnest with science. He only re-
jects those theories by which, in his opinion, the
true theory was spoiled. Whatever appeared to
him an incorrect copy of the world he flung aside
as a ground-plan, in following which, man had
for whole ages built nothing but castles in the
air. Among these ground-plans he found some
belonging to the earliest ages, which, though not
copies, he considered symbols of the world; and
these he endeavoured to interpret after his own
fashion. Macaulay is astonished, in this case, at
the morbid degree to which a talent for analogy
is developed in Bacon; but he does not perceive
the connection of this talent with Bacon’s method;
he does not see that Bacon looked to analogy as
an expedient by which he might pursue his theory
further than his method permitted, and thus ren-

PARTIALITY OF INNOVATORS. 395

der the temple of science broader and more lofty
than was possible by the unaided use of his in-
struments.

Mr. Macaulay lessens Bacon by trying to aug-
ment him and elevate him above all others. If
he understood Bacon’s mind, as the latter under-
stood the world, he would have formed a different
judgment either of Bacon or of theory. His error
consists in this, that he would make an historical
prejudice of Bacon into a law of nature; that he
repeats and heightens this prejudice as if it were
now as just and as comprehensible as at the time
when it was originally expressed. Bacon’s histo-
rical prejudices are to be explained by the parti-
cular degree of culture which his age had attained
— to be vindicated, above all, by his own historical
position. It was his mission to renovate science,
and to open to the new spirit of the age a path
in the region of science, after it had already
made for itself a way in the region of the church.
Hence he was forced to reject the theories of the
past. The founders of the new are seldom the
best interpreters of the old. Indeed, it is impos-
sible that they should be so; for the old is in their
eyes something foreign to their purpose, and it is
their vocation to deprive it of the sanction of
mankind, It is not till afterwards that that
which has been exploded becomes again an object

396 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

of human consideration as something yet to be
explained, and then comes the time for a truly
impartial judgment. This sort of justice does not
belong to the vocation of reforming minds. To
know the historical value that is to be attached to
the ancient and scholastic philosophy, we must
not consult Bacon and Descartes. The greatest
reformer of philosophy that ever lived, Immanuel
Kant, was the least able of all to explain its past.
le only saw and only aimed at one vulnerable
point; this he hit, and cared little about anything
else. It is just this hard and dictatorial character,
that, from its own point of view, heaps together
and rejects whole ages of science, that both in
Bacon and in Kant aided the work of renovation
in philosophy. Leibnitz, who, in spite of his
vocation as a reformer, was, nevertheless, most
zealous in his efforts to treat the ancients in every
respect with justice, is not to be cited as an in-
stance to the contrary. His position was utterly
different from those of Bacon and Kant. Leib-
nitz had not, like them, to create a new spirit,
but to reform a new spirit that already existed,
having emanated from Bacon and Descartes. This
new spirit he wished to free from the one-sided-
ness that was displayed in its exclusive and dis-
dainful attitude towards antiquity; and thus his
renovating philosophy involuntarily became a re-

BACON SUITED TO HIS OWN TIME. 397

storation of the ancient. This reformation was, at
the same time, a rehabilitation.

That which in Bacon was right, and suited to the
spirit of the times, is not so now. He might de-
clare the philosophy of the past unpractical, and
confirm this summary judgment by making a phi-
losophy of the future. But it is at once wrong, and
contrary to the spirit of the times, still to retain
Bacon’s opinion of antiquity, and under the banner
of his philosophy, to declare war against theory in
general. Bacon’s philosophy itself (as, indeed,
every philosophy is by its very nature) was atheory,
and nothing else; it was the theory of the inven-
tive mind. Nothing great, in the shape of inyen-
tion, is attributable to Bacon; he was far less in-
ventive than the German metaphysician, Leibnitz.
If by practical philosophy we mean invention,
Bacon was a mere theorist ; his philosophy was
nothing but a theory of * practical philosophy.”
Bacon did not wish to narrow theory, but to rein-
vigorate it and to open for it a wider field of
observation than it had ever had before. I do
not know with what eyes any one can have read
Bacon’s works to interpret their spirit in a nar-
rower sense. Besides that manly vigour that
feels itself called upon to achieve great deeds,
and fully equal to its mission, these writings
breathe the irresistible spirit of youth and genius,

398 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

in which a sense of something new is awakened ;
and which, conscious of its own strength, every-
where expresses its own convictions in plain and
unvarnished terms. Not unfrequently does the
calm thought speak in the language of imagina-
tion; and the end that Bacon pursues — practical
and generally useful as it is— often appears in his
descriptions as a youthful ideal, accompanied by
significant images and great examples. What
charms us in Bacon, with peculiar fascination,
enabling us not only to think, but also to feel
with him, is, in addition to the weight of his own
ideas, that freshly awakened passionate thirst for
science which carries him along and pervades all
his projects; and which, though he cautiously
compels. it to bridle its energies, so as not to be
borne headlong, he never commands to become
extinct, or to be satisfied with little. No, the
beverage desired by Bacon is pressed from num-
berless grapes, though only from those that are
fully matured and prepared. The Bacon that
we find in his own writings, knows no bounds
to human knowledge within the compass of the
universe, no xe plus ultra, no pillars of Her-
cules for the mind. These are his words, not
ours; and had he thought differently, he would
not have written his books on the dignity and
advancement of the sciences. These works

EXTENSIVE VIEWS OF BACON. 399

afford the best proof of the wide extent of
theory in Bacon’s mind; the best proof that he
did not wish to limit and restrain it, but to reno-
vate it and extend it to the boundaries of the uni-
verse. His standard of practicability was not the
mere utility of the bourgeois, but that generally
human utility to which knowledge, as knowledge,
belongs. In his dedication to the King of Eng-
land*, he says: — ‘To your Majesty,-—it is
proper and agreeable to be conversant not only in
the transitory parts of good government, but in
those acts also that are in their nature permanent
and perpetual. Amongst the which, if affection do
not transport me, there is not any more worthy
than the further advancement of the world with
sound and fruitful knowledge. For why should
a few received authors stand up like Hercules’
columns, beyond which there should be no sailing
or discovering, since we have so bright and benign
a star as your majesty to conduct and pros-
per us?”

This is not the Bacon that Mr. Macaulay
would set up as one of the Hercules’ pillars of
science; and here, in brief, is the distinction be-
tween the two. What Bacon sought was new,
and, rightly understood, is eternal. What at the

* In the second book of “ Advancement.” The passage also
occurs in “ De Augmentis, II.” —J. O.

400 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

present day is desired by Macaulay and many
others, who use the authority of Bacon, is not the
new, but at most, the modern. The new is that
which opposes itself to the old, and serves as a
model for the future; in this sense, there is very
little that is new in the world — the new is only
the truth of extraordinary minds in extraordinary
times. The modern is that which flatters the
present, and gains the largest amount of suffrages
from the public opinion of the day. As far as I
can see, we have nothing new in art or science,
nothing that we can oppose to the ancient, and
hold up as a light to posterity; and to judge from
appearances, all the real innovations of the present
day occur and are sought in other fields, where,
indeed, they are more required. That which, in
our day, would pass for something new in art or
science, is, in fact, nothing but an artificial, and
therefore intrinsically unsound revivification of the
old —an affected repetition of what has been.
Its value is that of a theatrical intermezzo, which
serves to amuse the multitude while the stage re-
mains empty between the acts. The new is
achieved by genius that is never guided by the
multitude; the modern by the masses. Thus
the materialism of the present day is modern; and
akin to it and likewise modern are the cam-
paigns that are carried on, amid loud applause,

PSEUDO-BACONISM. 401

against all the greatness of our past in art and
science. Everybody who courts ignorant ap-
plause has the word “practical” in his mouth;
everybody, forsooth, will be practical; and so he
is, provided he can thus pursue and attain his
own ends. Only these interests of the present
day, and of special coteries, have no right to appeal
to Bacon, who, in science, had nothing in com-
mon with them; and who, if he knew of such nar-
row and mischievous prejudices, would doubtless
have classed them — and very properly — among
the “ Idola fori.” If, like Bacon, we consider prac-
tical utility on a grand scale, measuring it not by
individuals, but by the state of the world, theory
becomes expanded of itself; and the passion for
knowledge has no reason to fear that an arbitrary
restraint will ever be imposed upon it in con-
sequence of such a practical point of view.

The genuine mind of Bacon is a wholesome ex-
ample for any time. After the purely theoretical
labours in art and science have come, as it seems,
to a stop for some time, the impulse to an activity
and culture of general utility is revived with
increased liveliness, philosophy seeks anew the
exact sciences and experience, and her desire for
knowledge is once more directed to the living
objects of nature and history. The exact sciences

DD

402 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

are applied to public life, that they may stimu-
late it to invention, or instruct and enlighten it.
' Thus the physical sciences fertilise history, the
historical fertilise politics; everywhere an effort is
revealed on the part of scientific theory to become
useful, or, at any rate, generally intelligible. The
departments of science vie with each other in con-
tributing their aid to general culture and serving
practical interests. Those among them all that
contribute the most, are of the greatest value
with regard to that culture that has general
utility for its end; and this pre-eminence un-
doubtedly belongs to the physical sciences, espe-
cially those that by dint of mechanical and che-
mical discoveries have elevated the inventive
mind, and enabled it by new means of communi-
cation and industry to give an entirely new form
to ordinary life. Here the spirit of Bacon has
imprinted upon the present deep traces that are
not to be mistaken. Nay, the whole scientific
energy of our times is Baconian in its tendency,
and we can easily see why the augurs of the day
once more evoke this name with increased urgency.
We grant, that any attempt to oppose such a tor-
rent, with a dam stronger than itself, would be
futile indeed; but then, on the other hand, no one
should attempt to convert the torrent itself into a

PSEUDO-BACONISM. 403

dam, and thus to petrify the spirit of Bacon into
a Hercules’ pillar. Far from disregarding the
example of Bacon, we would oppose a true to
a fallacious example. The spirit of Bacon may,
indeed, stand as a model for the present; but it
should appear in all its greatness, not as a dis-
figured or diminished counterfeit, such as the
celebrated English historian gives us in his etch-
ing. Bacon’s opposition to theory was in a
double sense historical. He opposed an historical
theory that belonged to the past; he sprang from
an historical position that was to decide the turn-
ing-point between the past and the future. This
opposition was relative, and should not be made
absolute ; being mainly adapted to a certain age,
it should not be applied to ourselves and all ages
without distinction. That which is an “ idol,”
though an inevitable one, in Bacon, ought not to
be converted into a truth for us; for the light
of the Baconian mind would thus be turned into
a misleading ignis fatuus, which, at the present
day, no one would have been less inclined to
follow than Bacon himself. Even Mr. Macaulay
shows how little that opposition, which he stamps
with the name of Bacon, is really grounded in
his own mind. If we set every other consi-

deration aside, the very style shows, that where
DD 2

404 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

Bacon was in earnest, Macaulay is only in sport.
Bacon had experienced within himself and actually
felt his opposition to antiquity, and to that which
he calls theoretical philosophy. The opposition
lay in the very condition of his intellectual nature.
Very different, even as to its expression, does
this opposition appear in Macaulay, by whom it is
reduced to an artificial antithesis, which with the
readiest dexterity passes from one party-word to
another. This is the language not of simple
feeling, but of artificial imitation. Mr. Macaulay,
in his essay, bears the same relation to Bacon that
a rhetorical figure bears to a natural character.
Voltaire would have stood in a similar relation to
Shakespeare if he had wished to represent and
imitate a Shakesperian character.

History itself has pronounced the final judg-
ment in this matter, and the historical fact is the
last negative instance that we shall oppose to
Macaulay. Bacon’s philosophy is not an end of
theories, but the starting-point of new theories,
which were its necessary results in England and
France, and of which some were practical in
Mr. Macaulay’s sense of the word. Hobbes was
the disciple of Bacon. His ideal of a state is the
direct opposite of the Platonic ideal in every point
save one-—namely, that it is an equally im-

PSEUDO-BACONISM. 405

practicable theory. Macaulay, however, terms
Hobbes the most acute and powerful of human in-
tellects. If, now, Hobbes was a practical philo-
sopher, what becomes of Macaulay’s politics? If,
on the other hand, Hobbes was not a practical
philosopher, what becomes of Macaulay’s philo-
sophy, that pays homage to the theorist Hobbes ?

DBDs

406 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

CHAP. XIII.

THE PROGRESS OF THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY.

SrrictLy speaking, philosophical schools are
always the inheritors of systems. Where there
are no systems, there is likewise no inheritance ;
for this arises when the school takes in hand and
further elaborates, formally or materially, the intel-
lectual edifice* of the master, if this edifice is not
already complete enough to be inhabited in peace
and comfort. In modern philosophy such schools
have been founded by Descartes, Leibnitz, Kant,
and Hegel. The Baconian philosophy has not
had a school in the same sense as these; the for-
mation of a system belonged neither to its pur-
pose nor its constitution. Not in its purpose;
for Bacon was a declared foe to every mania for
scientific sects and systems, well knowing the
mischief that is done to scientific progress by
the confinement of forms. Not in its constitu-
tion ;. for this, like the mind of the founder, was

* The compound word, “ Lehrgebiude,” is commonly ren-
dered “system ;” but to accommodate Dr, Fischer’s image it
must be reduced to its elements.—J. O.

THE BACONIAN SCHOOL, 407.

not planned for the formation of a complete and
fully developed theory ;—for the establishment of
a doctrine simply to be handed down from master
to pupil, and to be elaborated in the same scho-
lastic spirit. Just as in the strict sense of the
word, we cannot say there was a Baconian sys-
tem, so we cannot say that —strictly speaking —
there was a Baconian school.

The influence of this philosophy extends far
beyond the sphere of the learned; it gives a ten-
dency of the mind, which once taken, cannot be
abandoned. Systems die out, for there is no per-
manence in forms; but a necessary tendency of
the mind, founded in human nature, is eternal.
The nearer a philosophy stands to common life,
the nearer its ideas correspond to actual wants,
the less systematic it will probably be; but so
much the more indestructible will be its weight,
so much the more lasting will be its vitality. It
“is impossible to banish experience from human
science ;—-and equally impossible to banish ex-
periment, the comparison of particular cases, the
force of negative instances, and the observation
of prerogative instances from the region of ex-
perience. It is likewise impossible to deprive
human life of the possessions that result from
experimentalising experience — namely, natural

DDd4

}

408 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

science and invention; and if all this is impos~
sible, the Baconian philosophy stands secure for
all ages.

EMPIRIA AND EMPIRISM.

But it is another question whether all science
consists merely of experience, whether experi-
ments constitute the whole of observation, whether
all the wants of human life are to be satisfied —
the theoretical by natural science, the practical
by invention. If such is not the case, only one
hemisphere of life is illumined by the Baconian
philosophy. By this consideration the value of
experience is not denied, but the worth of the
Baconian philosophy is limited. Its limit does
not consist in its exaltation and logical vindication
of experience, but in its utter subjugation to expe-

rience, in its reduction of all human knowledge
wwe wS

without exception to the level of experience.
This limit, at the same time, expresses the cha-
racter, the specific difference of the Baconian
philosophy, which is valid as a special philosophy,
and in this capacity will serve as a guide for a
series of investigations, which describe* a whole
period. Bacon has referred human knowledge to

* “ Describe,” in the sense in which a planet is said to de-
scribe its orbit.—J. O.

PHILOSOPHY OF EXPERIENCE. 409

experience by rectifying the latter, and at the
same time limits philosophy to experience, by
elevating the latter into the principle of all
sciences. Now, it is very possible to take the
first of these steps without taking the second;
and while we unconditionally agree with Bacon
in the one case, we may have our doubts about
the other, for it is one thing to seek experience,
another to make experience a principle. Here is
the difference between Empiria* and Empirism. .
The former is experience as abundance and en- |
joyment, the latter is experience as a principle, |
which we may adopt and be very poor in true |
experience after all. Experience of the world °
always enriches science and extends it to an im-
measurable degree. This is the positive and
lasting influence of Bacon. It is true that ex-
perience of the world does not satisfy all the as-
pirations after knowledge that are to be found in
human nature, but then it stands in the way of
none. On the other hand, the phzlosophy of expe-
( rience expressly opposes itself to all the specula-
tive wants that experience of the world does not
satisfy. It weakens the scientific interest in all

* It is needless to state that this word properly signifies neither
more nor less than “ experience ;” but as Dr. Fischer uses it in
addition to “ Erfahrung” in a definite sense, it must be retained
—J. O.

410 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

things that are not objects of experience, and
would most readily turn this interest into indif-
ference. Thus, for instance, religious indifference
was founded in the very character of the Baconian
philosophy. Indispensable as experience is to
human knowledge, the principle of experience is of
dubious value in philosophy:—not merely be-
cause it sets limits to the human mind, but because
it is a principle assumed, though in itself doubt-
ful—a dogma. Knowledge is only attainable
by experience—such is the first axiom of the
Baconian philosophy. Is even the truth of this
axiom known by experience? and if so, by what
experience ? Are we not compelled to ask: By
what experience is the principle of experience
guaranteed? How does experience vindicate it-
self? Or are we not allowed, —nay, are we for-
bidden to judge the philosophy of experience by
its own maxims? This inevitable test was natu-
rally applied after the philosophy of experience
had gone through its historical phases; and re-
sulted in the decision that experience must no
longer be received as an axiom, — that the philo-
sophy of experience cannot be dogmatical, but
only sceptical. This decision does not weaken
“ Empiria,” but Empirism.

PROGRESS OF EMPIRISM. 411

EMPIRISM.

The realistic philosophy has now arrived at its
last exclusive point of view. It follows the
Baconian spirit, not in that extended sense which,
conformably to experience, would widen the com-
pass of human knowledge, but in that narrow
sense which would restrict philosophy; that is to
say, all human knowledge to experience. Hence
we may foresee that the Baconian sphere of vision
will become narrower and more exclusive at every
step; but that, likewise, in conformity to its
principles, it will be more logically and rigidly
defined. Indeed, it is the nature of the philo-
sophy of experience to become more narrow, the
more it accommodates itself to the logical fetters
of its principles. We can indicate the charac-
teristics that have been already foreshadowed
in the Baconian philosophy, and which become
clearer and sharper at every logical step.

If experience can alone pronounce a final de-
cision in every case, nothing but what is actually
perceived can be accepted as a real object, and
this will also be an individuality. On this sup-
position “ universals” and generic ideas must be
rejected, or, at any rate, merely regarded as
names and symbols, which contribute nothing to

412 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

the knowledge of things, but only facilitate com-
munication, ‘To use the language of the scholiasts,
Empiricism regards “universals” not as realia,
but as nominalia. Hence the whole philosophy
of experience, together with Bacon, is nomi-
nalistic in its views. Universal ideas are words,
without objective foundation or anything objective
to correspond to them; for the individual thing
that we actually perceive is alone truly objective.
Words are arbitrary signs, coined, like money, for
the sake of intercommunication. Thus, language
generally is to be looked upon as a work effected
by human agreement, as a method of conver-
sation; and from this point of view it is investi-
gated and criticised by the Baconian philosophy.
Indeed Bacon himself had already classed the
public credit that is given to words, among the
“Tdola fori.” With this view of generic ideas
and of language, an anti-formalistic tendency is
necessarily associated;—-an opposition to the
Platonico-Aristotelian and scholastic philosophy,
an aversion to any explanation of the world by
final causes. Hence, as a matter of course, fol-
lows a predilection for materialism, as opposed to
formal philosophy ; for a mechanical explanation
of things, as opposed to teleology ; for Democritus
and Epicurus, as opposed to Plato and Aristotle.
All these characteristics are foreshadowed in

ATOMISM. 413

Bacon, and are common to the upholders of
realistic philosophy, who ever bear this Baconian
stamp.

Now if things cannot be thought by means of
intellectual and generic ideas, the symbols of
which are words, nothing is left for us but to
think by means of the senses and their impres-
sions; and thus experience is limited to sensuous
perception. “All knowledge is experience,”
says Empirism. ‘Experience is only sensuous
perception,” says Sensualism, which has its neces-
sary foundation in the philosophy of experience,
and already is clearly foreshadowed by Bacon.

And what are things-in-themselves*, if they
exclude all generic universality, and are merely ob-
jects of our sensuous perceptions? They must be
the reverse of genera— individuals of a material
kind—that is to say, atoms. According to its
positive principles, the nominalistic view is also
atomistic, The atomistic view belongs to the very
character of a philosophy that deliberately limits
itself to experimentalising experience; avoids the
abstract ideas of the intellect ; approaches things
themselves, instrument in hand, not to generalise
the conceptions of bodies, but to dissect the bodies,

* It need scarcely be mentioned that “ Ding-an-sich” (thing
in itself) is a Kantian expression used to denote a thing in its
own nature, independent of our perceptions.—J. O.

—

414 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

and reduce them to their ultimate parts. This
direction has been unequivocally taken even by
Bacon himself; and the further the realistic philo-
sophy leaves Bacon behind, so much the more
definite does the atomistic view become; so much
the more clearly, unreservedly, and exclusively,
is materialism revealed. This proceeds so far,
that it at last gives atomistic explanations even of
space and time, which it declares to be composed
of simple elementary particles.. The infinite
divisibility of space and time is declared to be the
greatest absurdity by the same thinker, who con-
verts the Baconian philosophy into scepticism.

We shall find that the empirism founded by
Bacon is heightened in its atomistic, sensualistic,
and nominalistic tendencies, as it logically pro-
eresses, and that at last it resolves itself into
scepticism.

THE DEGREES OF DEVELOPMENT IN EMPIRISM.

These are the leading points of view taken by
the thinkers of the Baconian age. We shall
clearly and concisely bring forward the principal
characteristics of this age, merely marking those
points in the progress of the Baconian philosophy
that may really be considered developments”,

* “ Fortbildungen ;” literally “ progressive formations, or elabo-
rations.”"—J. O.

DEVELOPMENT OF BACONISM. 415

whether they fulfil requisitions that Bacon has
made, or carry out inquiries that he has stimu-
lated; I mean such requisitions and such problems
as immediately belong to the philosophical prin-
ciples themselves. All these developments of the
philosophy of experience have their roots in
Bacon. To these roots we especially direct our
attention here; firstly because they have not been
sufficiently regarded, and the later advocates of
realistic philosophy have been far too readily con-
sidered independent and -peculiar thinkers than
they really were; whereas, if they are compared to
Bacon, they are nothing of the sort, or, at any
rate, only to a very limited extent. Secondly,
because we cannot better appreciate and under-
stand these later results than by deducing them
from their natural and historical origin, and, as it
were, drawing them forth by the root out of the
Baconian philosophy. Bacon himself, when he
speaks of the method of instruction, makes the
excellent remark that we cannot teach sciences
better than by laying bare their roots to the
learners. *

Compare “ De Augm.” VI. 2.

416 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

I. Toe Aromism or Hopspes.

Ir we regard the Baconian philosophy in the
direction which it took as opposed to antiquity
and scholasticism, in the constitution which it
adopted in conformity with that tendency, these
points of view will appear most conspicuous:
The sciences generally should be brought back to
natural science as their foundation ; —natural
science should be based upon pure experience,
and this, again, upon the natural understanding.
Bacon had declared that natural science is the
great parent of all the sciences ; on this founda-
tion, not only the physical disciplines, such as
astronomy, optics, mechanics, medicine, &c., were
to be renovated ; but, “* what will surprise many,”
the humanistic also, such as morals, politics, and
logic. This wasa demand made by Bacon,—and,
indeed, he was compelled to make it by the very
nature of his philosophy ; — but which he himself
only hinted at in morals, left unfulfilled in politics,
while he expressly declared it was not to be ful-
filled in the case of religion. Here isa gap within
the precincts of the Baconian philosophy ; and this
consequently is the problem that has first to be
solved. Bacon wished to be silent on the subject
of politics; and religion, according to him, was to

THOMAS HOBBES, 417

have nothing to do with natural knowledge. If
we accurately formulise this problem, we shall find
that in its broadest sense it insists that the moral
world shall be explained on naturalistic principles,
——that it shall be based on the natural state
of man, and deduced from that basis. Hence
we have the questions: “ Which is the natural
state of man? How does the moral order of
things result from it?” or, to speak the lan-
guage of Bacon, *‘ How does the ‘status civilis’
follow from the * status naturalis’ of man?” This
problem is solved by Thomas Hobbes, the imme-
diate successor and disciple of Bacon.

He solves it altogether in the atomistic spirit
of the Baconian philosophy. He becomes the
politician of this tendency, and on political grounds
detests the philosophers of antiquity with a violence
still greater than that with which, on logical and
physical grounds, they are opposed by Bacon,
He wished to banish Plato and Aristotle from his
state, as mischievous to the common weal, just as
Plato from his republic would have banished

4Homer. In Hobbes the atomistic and nominal-

istic view is sharply and unscrupulously expressed,

and that in reference to politics, All generic

ideas are to him mere names and words; and these

are nothing but conventional expedients for mutual

intercourse. ‘* Words,” says Hobbes, “are wise
EE

418 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

men’s counters, they do but reckon by them; but
they are the money of fools, that value them by
the authority of an Aristotle, a Cicero, or a
Thomas (Aquinas).”* Thinking is judging;
judgments are propositions; propositions consist
of words; words are counters. Hence, with
Hobbes, thinking is the same as reckoning.

l. THE STATE AS AN ABSOLUTE POWER.

Hobbes’s view of nature, and also of the natural
condition of mankind, was purely atomistic. From
these principles he deduced the necessity of a
natural contract; upon this contract he founded
the state, to which he made morals and religion
unconditionally subordinate. His conception of
morals and religion was purely political, his ex-
planation of the state itself purely naturalistic, —
that is to say, it was founded on a natural con-
tract, which was the necessary consequence of the
natural condition of man. Thus that which Bacon
either could not or would not effect was effected
by Hobbes, — namely, the reduction of the whole
moral world, together with the state, to natural
laws. The state, in the worldly-political sense
of the word, was to him the absolute and om-
nipotent total of all human community, of all

* “ Leviathan,” Pt. I, chap. iv.

THE “ LEVIATHAN.” 419

public religion and morality. Hence he calls this
state the “mortal god” or the “ great Leviathan,”
which recklessly swallows up individuals. His
principal work is entitled “ Leviathan, or the
Matter, Form, and Power of the Ecclesiastical
and Political State.” Humanity, as the sum total
of all community, is a product of political right,
which, in its turn, is a product of natural right.
Hence Hobbes unconditionally rejects the eccle-
siastical state, and, likewise unconditionally, in-
sists on the temporal authority in the state as an
absolute power, altogether unlimited and illimit-
able. From this point of view Hobbes necessarily
attacks every religion that is independent of the
state, or — what is still worse — would be an ab-
solute state itself, to which the political should
be subordinate. He is the most violent opponent
of the Puritans and Independants, on the one
side, and of the pope, the hierarchy, and the
Jesuits, on the other. His “ Leviathan” is, at
the same time, directed against Cromwell — who,
with the aid of an unfettered religion, had just
overthrown the monarchy in England —and
against Cardinal Bellarmin, whose books in de-
fence of the papal power he expressly refutes.

BE 2

420 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM,.

2. MORALITY AND RELIGION AS A PRODUCT OF THE STATE.

Religion and morality, properly so called, are,
according to Hobbes, only possible through the
state, for it is by the state that they are first
made. By religion Hobbes understands the general
belief in a Deity, and a public worship of Him;
by morality, the public system of ethics. It is
only through the character of a community that
faith becomes a religion, and the moral sense
morality.* Hence it follows, as a matter of course,
. that without human community there is neither
religion as acommon worship of God, nor morality
as a common duty. |

But the natural condition of man excludes all
community. In this, men are merely natural
forces, every one of which seeks to maintain and
augment itself at the expense of all the others.
Here, as so many unrestrained atoms, the rude
impulses and desires, the selfish passions and
emotions, predominate, and necessarily change the
natural condition of man into a war of all with
all. The selfishness of the individual alone
decides the value of things, and determines the

* By the use of the word “ Sittenlehre,” in addition to
‘* Moral,” an appearance of tautology, unavoidable in English,
is avoided in German.—J. O.

NATURAL SELFISHNESS, 421

category to which they belong. The object of a
selfish desire is termed good; that of a selfish
aversion is termed bad. I seek what is useful,
Tavoid what is hurtful, to— myself. Thus private
interest is the sole arbiter as to what is good and
what is bad; these definitions are merely relative,
according to the standard of individuals, and are
as various as individuals themselves. ‘ Nothing,”
says Hobbes, “ is in itself good or bad, beautiful or
ugly.” There is, therefore, no natural morality ;
or, what is the same thing, the natural element
of all so-called morality is human egoism. This
is the concise proposition which, as the funda-
mental theme of their ethics, is carried out by
the materialistic moralists of the Anglo-Gallic
enlightenment,” such as Mandeville and Hel-
vetius. They take root in Hobbes.

The natural man is the selfish man. He only
seeks to maintain himself and his own power,
and, consequently, to increase the latter. He
loves whatever promotes this power, hates what-
ever limits and imperils it. What he hates he
attacks and persecutes; what he cannot attack he
fears. Fear is impotent hatred; it is flight in
the place of combat; it is a consequence of the
inability to carry on and endure the fight. Hence
the natural man hates and attacks the assailable

powers that threaten his own; he fears and flies
EE 3

422 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

those which are unapproachable, — the superior
forces of nature. Here, with the ability of com-
petition, the fight ends likewise; mighty nature
with her terrors disarms man, and he stands timid
and impotent before her. He does not know how
to attack her. Why? Because he is unac-
quainted with the causes of her terrible pheno-
mena. If he knew them, he would seek to devise
means by which he might conquer the dangerous
powers, and invention would take the place of
fear. But, as he is not acquainted with their
causes, a fear of mysterious, unapproachable, de-
moniac powers results from his ignorance; and
this fear produces religion. MJeligion is a child
of fear, which, in its turn, is a child of ignorance.
This proposition shows the opinion of religion
held by the philosophy of experience, when this
is consistent with its own premisses; it is that
favourite theme of the Voltairian enlightenment
that is repeated with such especial satisfaction by
the materialists of the Anglo-Gallican school. The
explanation of religion was thus made to coincide
so completely with the negation of religion, that
nothing was left for the “ cultivated world” but
to scoff at religion altogether. As with Epicurus
the Gods reside in the interstices of the world, so
with Hobbes does religion exist in the interstices
of physical science. Bacon had utterly excluded

IRRELIGION OF HOBBES. 423

religion from the natural knowledge of things;
and Hobbes does the same. But Bacon based
religion upon the supernatural revelation of God,
whereas Hobbes bases it upon the natural igno-
rance of man, This religion based upon igno-
rance and blind fear is nothing but superstition.
Thus religion is superstitious even in its natural
origin; or, in other words, there is no such
thing as natural religion.

Such, according to Hobbes, is the position of
morality and religion. The principle of natural
morality is human selfishness — the opposite of all
morality. ‘The principle of natural religion is
superstitious fear — the opposite of all religion.
The two propositions are closely and logically
connected. All who have endeavoured to deduce
morality from selfishness have deduced religion
from fear, and vice versd.

By the conversion of the natural condition of
man into the state, his life, from being atomistic,
becomes social and gregarious. The state by
public laws declares what is good and bad for all.
It thus marks the distinction between just and
unjust actions, and likewise determines what is
to be believed by all, what Deity is to be wor-
shipped, and in what form. Thus the political
sanction, the law of the state, alone pronounces

the final decision between good and bad, between
EE 4

424 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

religion and superstition; the law of the state
alone determines what is universally useful, and
should be universally revered, and thus constitutes
both morality and religion. A legal action 1s
good, an illegal action bad; the legal worship of
the Deity is religion, the illegal, superstition. In
the natural condition of man, according to Hobbes,
everything is bad that injures me, every faith is
superstitious that is not mine. In the state, on
the contrary, the fear of such invisible beings as
are publicly sanctioned by the legislature is alone
religion; all else is superstition. Thus Hobbes
plainly defines superstition as “ the fear of invi-
sible beings that are not publicly recognised.”
The distinctions between legal and illegal, and all
that belongs to them—namely, the distinctions be-
tween good and evil, religion and superstition —
are as absolute as the state itself, That distinc-
tion between legality and morality, upon which
Kant rested the whole weight of his ethics, does
not exist from the point of view taken by
Hobbes, who recognises only one standard for the
worth of actions,—namely, the public ae ©The
public law is the citizen’s only conscience.’ > There
is with Hobbes no “ tribunal,” either within or
without the state, stronger than the state itself;
the state is absolute.

THE NATURAL CONTRACT. 425

38, THE STATE AS A PRODUCT OF NATURE.

But how does this atomistic state result from
the atomistic condition of nature? The answer
is, by a naturally legal contract. Thus the first
question is divided into two: How does a
natural contract, in any form whatever, result
from the natural condition of man? How does
the absolute state, however constituted, result
from the natural contract ?

The natural condition of man is a war of all
against all, which necessarily arises, because the
human forces, by their very nature, are opposed in
hostility to each other. But this very war, in the
most formidable manner, threatens every indi-
vidual with the loss of life and happiness; it is
injurious to every one, and, consequently, repug-
nant to that law of nature by which every indi-
vidual instinctively seeks the enjoyment of life,
and fears death. The law of nature counsels
every one to seek his own safety; and this en-
joins every one to cease a war by which, to the
highest degree, his safety is imperilled. It says,
“ Do not fight any longer, but let every one, for
his own advantage, agree with all the rest.” For
this purpose, all those conditions that disturb the
general peace must be abandoned. Those condi-

426 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

tions lie in the natural right by which every in-
dividual is permitted, nay, enjoined, to increase
his own power at the expense of the others. Con-
sequently all must abandon their natural rights,
or, what is the same thing, transfer them to a
third party. The “renuntiation” is, at the same
time, a “translation.” It takes place on all sides,
because it is required by everybody; it is re-
ciprocal, because every one parts with his own
right on the sole condition that others shall do
the like. This reciprocal transfer of rights forms
the contract; and the contract constitutes the
essence of the state in human society. It is com-
manded by the natural law of necessity, and is,
therefore, to be implicitly carried out. Its object
is the coexistence of persons in peace and secu-
rity. All the conditions required for its existence
are natural laws, the sum total of which consti-
tutes, according to Hobbes, the only real morality.

The right, once transferred, is irrevocable; con-
sequently the social contract itself can neither be
rescinded nor altered. This contract is the foun-
dation of the state, and holds the position in
politics that is held by axioms in science. To
contradict an axiom is absurd; and, in like manner,
it is absurd and also wrong to rescind the contract
that has once been established. That it may be
impossible to commit such a wrong, the contract

POLITICAL ABSOLUTISM OF HOBBES. 427

must not merely consist of words, but must be
armed with a power that imperiously requires and,
in cases of necessity, compels recognition, — that
can preserve its consistency, and, in cases of ne-
cessity, defend it. To the society formed by virtue
of this contract, all the rights and powers of in-
dividuals are transferred. Society wields absolute
power, and thus forms the state, which unites all
rights and all power within itself. The power of
the state is sole, unlimited, indivisible; it can
neither be divided nor limited. In the pre-
sence of the state, all are subjects. The state
alone rules, and is alone free. The others obey,
they must do, what is enjoined by the laws.
* Their freedom,” says Hobbes, “ exists only in
that which is not prohibited by the laws.” The
state is absolute.

Now, this all-powerful state, this “people” to
whom every individual is a subject—in what
form does it exist? who is the state? Accord-
ingly as the power is lodged with one person or
many, the form of the state may be distinguished
as monarchical, aristocratic, or democratic; but
whatever be the form, the power of the state is,
in all cases, absolute and indivisible. According
to Hobbes, the legislative must not be separated
from the governing power, nor the judicial power
from the other two. All the powers are united

428 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

in a single hand, and are best and most natu-
rally united in a single person. This absolute
monarchy, or the absolute state in the form of
monarchy, is, according to Hobbes, the normal
condition of polity. “Society,” “community,”
“‘pneople,” “state,” “king,” are identical expres-
sions. The king is the people, he is the whole;
he concentrates within himself all the civil power:
it is therefore logically impossible for a people to
rebel against the king, for the king, in that case,
would rebel against himself. Hence, in this model
state, projected by Hobbes, the king might say,
with Louis XIV., “ L’état c’est moi.”

It is a natural consequence of the point of view
taken by Hobbes in this theory of a state, that
he most strenuously opposes the political principles
of antiquity, of the middle ages, and of modern
times ,—the first, because they are republican; the
second because they are partly feudal, partly
hierarchic; the third, because they are constitu-
tional. As opposed to antiquity, Hobbes is in
favour of absolute monarchy; as opposed to the
middle ages, he is the decided adversary of feu-
dality, of the rule of priests and nobles; as
opposed to modern times, he is an absolutist. As
Bacon directs his blows against the Aristotelian
Organon, so does Hobbes assail the Aristotelian
politics. Both lay to the charge of Aristotle

POLITICAL ABSOLUTISM OF HOBBES. 429

the worst evils with which they are acquainted.
Bacon makes him responsible for the wretched
condition of science, and the word-wisdom of the
English universities; Hobbes, for the wretched
condition of the state, the destruction of civil
order by the revolution, the English civil war,
and the execution of Charles I. He desires that
the republican writings of the Greeks and Romans
should not be read in monarchical states, for they
breed a “ tyrannophobia, which is as bad as hydro-
phobia.” The advocates of the hierarchy, espe-
cially the Jesuits, attack Hobbes as an atheistical
politician. Montesquieu and Kant attack him as
an absolutist. They make civil liberty depend upon
the separation of the powers of the state, whereas
Hobbes considers that the state is imperilled by
every separation of the kind, and will concede no
other liberty than that which is not prohibited by
the monarch. Every doctrine in favour of the
limitation of the monarchical power is, in his
opinion, revolutionary. The royal power should
not be limited by anything; no moral conscience,
no religious freedom, are to prevail against it; no
private rights are to be considered inviolable, so far
as the monarchy is concerned. The king, as the
embodied law, sanctions the public faith, and is the
state and church in one person. What this church
prescribes, must be believed in blind obedience

430 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

without investigation. If this church is pleased to
sanction the Bible, the Bible is to be taken as the
rule of faith without limitation, or so much as a
scruple. It depends on this church alone what
scriptures are to be deemed holy or canonical —in
this church, which is the state, that is to say, the
king. Thus does Hobbes understand a Christian
state. There is the king, who gives the force of
law to the articles of the Christian faith; there is
the people, that acknowledges and follows as its
religious code the articles that the king has sanc-
tioned. With Hobbes, religious faith is nothing
more than political obedience, equally uncon-
ditional, cold, andexternal. ‘To his own infidelity
he gives vent by converting religious faith into a
state-edict — that is to say, a royal command; we
are to believe not from conviction, but from sub-
ordination. With this subordination he is in
earnest; but on the inner side of faith, on the
conviction of the believer himself, he lays no
stress at all. When he talks of it, he scarcely
conceals his own coldness and indifference. The
simile which is used on one occasion by Hobbes,
to illustrate obedience in faith, is highly charac-
teristic. He rejects all rational criticism of the
canonical writings, on the ground that “ divine
mysteries must not be chewed, but swallowed
whole, like pills.” Bacon compares the articles

HOBBES AND ROUSSEAU. 431

of faith to the rules of a game; Hobbes compares
them to pills: such is the hollowness, and in
truth the profanity, of both in their internal
relation to that religious faith to which they
would give external support. The essential point
is, that both accept faith through the medium of
worldly policy.

Though he proceeds on similar hypotheses, J. J.
Rousseau, in his “ Contrat Social,” appears as
the very antipode of Hobbes. Both agree in the
theory of a contract, by means of which they
found the state, and put an end to the natural con-
dition of man. Both would deduce the « status
civilis” from the “ status naturalis” by means of a
contract, which converts (isolated) individuals into
a society. Both take the same atomistic view of
the natural condition of man. But here Rousseau
differs in a peculiar manner from Hobbes, both
by his nearer apprehension of the natural con-
dition of man, and his nearer definition of the
form of state resulting from a contract. Accord-
ing to Rousseau men are not enemies by nature ;
hence in a natural condition there is no war of all
against all, nor, as in war, does the greatest right
consist of the greatest ‘might—in a word, the
right of the strongest does not prevail. On such
a right alone does Hobbes base the natural right
of absolute monarchy, which rests upon a contract

432 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

that perpetuates the right of the strongest. With
Hobbes, the contract is really on one side only;
with Rousseau, it is truly reciprocal. With the
former, all part with their rights, which they
consign to an individual, who from that moment
is alone all-powerful. ‘ Men,” says Rousseau,
“according to the theory of Hobbes, give them-
selves away for nothing; and they turn a natural
condition to a state, as the Greek heroes took
refuge in the cave of the Cyclops.” This state
is, according to Hobbes’s own expression, the
all-absorbing Leviathan. Rousseau, on the other
hand, would, by his contract, unite all to equal
rights and equal duties; his social contract forms
a state the power of which is lodged in the entire
‘people, which with him consists not of a single
individual, but of all. Hence his form of govern-
ment is democratic. A state that gives equal
rights follows from a contract that gives equal
rights; and this results, according to Rousseau,
from the natural condition of man. With views
that are similarly atomistic, and necessarily lead
to the theory of a political contract, Rousseau is,
in all essential points, diametrically opposite to
Hobbes; for he takes an opposite view of the
natural condition of man, of the contract itself,
and of the principle of community. With Hobbes,
the natural condition of man is a wild chaos of

HOBBES AND VOLTAIRE. 433

contending forces; with Rousseau it is a paradise
of happy and peaceful creatures; with the former
it is barbarous, with the latter it is idyllic.
Rousseau’s state bears to that of Hobbes the
same relation that material nature bears to the
terrible Leviathan. We do not stop to inquire how
far the ideas of both are remote from the truth.
This point of difference between Hobbes and
Rousseau is important, and opens a further view
into the age of Anclo-Gallic « enlightenment.”
By his difference from Hobbes, Rousseau is op-
posed to the French philosophes, who are the intel-
lectual progeny of Hobbes and Locke. Herein
consists the strong contrast between Rousseau,
on the one side, and Voltaire, Helvetius, Con-.
dillac, Diderot, and, above all, the Holbachians
(as Rousseau loves to call them), in whom ma-
terialism reaches its culminating point, on the
other. Here, in the very midst of the Anglo-
Gallic “ enlightenment,” arises a mighty reaction.
Consistently with his own notions of nature and
the natural condition of man, Rousseau finds in
nature the source of morality and religion; he
does not, like Hobbes and Helvetius, find the
source of morality in selfishness, but in love; he
does not, like Hobbes and Voltaire, find the
source of religion in blind fear, but in pious
admiration. To his eyes nature appears, not as a
ey

434 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

blind mechanism of forces, but as a moral, loving
being, which unites men in brotherhood, instead of
setting them against each other as enemies. His
view of nature was intended to be of a moral-reli- —
gious character, and was therefore to restore natural
morality and religion in opposition to the prevail-
ing “enlightenment.” Here Rousseau, to a certain
extent, unites himself with the German “ enlight-
enment,” which tends towards Kant; or, rather,
German “ enlightenment” unites itself with him.
Nearest akin to Hobbes is Spinoza, on whose
political theory the English philosopher probably
exercised an immediate influence. The “ Levia-
than” of Hobbes and the Political Treatise of
Spinoza agree completely in their fundamental
principles; but, in results, Spinoza’s reason in-
clines him to the democratic, his wishes to the
aristocratic form of government, whereas Hobbes,
both from theory and inclination, chooses absolute
monarchy. In politics Spinoza holds the middle
position between Hobbes and Rousseau; in his
view of the natural condition of man he is en-
tirely on the side of Hobbes. Spinoza does not,
any more than Hobbes, discover a source of
religion and morality in nature; like Hobbes,
he denies both on natural grounds, while, by
Rousseau, both, on natural grounds, are affirmed.
Hobbes’s conception of the nature of the Deity was
likewise similar to Spinoza’s. The Deity was to

IOBBES AND SPINOZA. 435

be conceived utterly without human analogy,
determined by no limit, humanised by no pas-
sion; all anthropomorphism, in short, was to be
avoided. ‘The Diyine will is power; and this
power is unlimited action. “ Of God we can
only say, in truth, that He is.”* If we place
Bacon by the side of Descartes, we may aptly
compare Hobbes with Spinoza. Whatever there
is of Spinozism in the Baconian philosophy is
most clearly expressed by Hobbes.t

If we consider Hobbes in reference to Bacon,
we must say that he has solved a problem, pro-
posed by the latter in his Organum as entirely
new, uncommon, and necessary: he has laid a
physical foundation of morality and politics. And,
indeed, Hobbes solved the problem in such a
manner as to make morality and religion sub-
servient to politics, and to reduce them to the
laws of nature.

II. Tae SENSUALISM OF LOCKE.

Bacon had insisted that the laws of nature
could only be discovered by experience, and that

* The words of Hobbes are, “ For there is but one name to
signify our conception of His nature, and that is, I am.”—
Leviathan, Il. 31.—J. O.

t On the subject of Spinoza’s politics, and its relation to
Hobbes, compare my “Geschichte der neuern Philosophie,”

vol. ii— Author’s Note.
FF 2

“a

436 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

experience could only be attained by the natural
understanding. Thus the question remained,
What is the naturat understanding? Bacon him-
self was chiefly interested in the question, How
does experience arrive at invention? This in-
quiry stands in the foreground of his philosophy ;
the “ Novum Organum” is devoted to it. In
the background arises the question, How do
we arrive at experience? how does experience
result from the human mind? Or what is the
human mind, if its knowledge, as Bacon has
explained, only consists in experience? This is
the problem solved by John Locke in his “ Essay
concerning Human Understanding.” Locke takes
root in Bacon; but, as far as I have seen, those
who treat of Locke have not sufficiently recognised
his dependent position with regard to Bacon —
the historical root of his philosophy. With respect
to Bacon, he is, indeed, far less independent than
Hobbes. Hobbes has complied with Bacon’s
boldest requisitions, and, among all the philoso-
phers of the Baconian race, is unquestionably the
most original. Locke has merely carried out what
Bacon has already explained and promulgated
throughout his works. Hobbes found in the
Baconian philosophy a mere cursory hint for the
establishment of his views, whereas Locke for
his views found a frequently repeated pattern.

Whetinnetom he cr psanta fro tm tof j

BACON AND LOCKE. 437

1. THE MIND AS A TABULA RASA.

Bacon had often and expressly declared that
the human understanding, to think correctly, must
completely get rid of all preconceived notions.
From these he had not made a single exception.
Thus, according to him, there was not a single
notion of which the understanding was unable to
get rid, not one that was firmly rooted or innate
in the mind. All notions must be first acquired
by experience; therefore we have not, or ought
not to have, a single notion prior to experience.
Thus the mind without experience is destitute of
all notions, is perfectly void, like a tabula rasa,
This, I think, follows by very simple and evident
reasoning, from the propositions of Bacon ; and
the conclusion thus drawn forms the starting-
point of Locke.

To the question, What is the human mind
prior to experience? Locke replies, It is a
tabula rasa; for there are no “innate ideas.” Ba-
con, in strictness, must have given the same
answer to the same question ; or, rather, he ac-
tually gave it. It is scarcely necessary to deduce
Locke’s principle from Bacon by a course of rea- .
soning ; we can find the principle, even verbally
expressed, in Bacon himself. The understanding
must lay aside all preconceived notions — must,

according to the very words of Bacon, clear itself
FF 3

438 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

of all notions whatever, render itself perfectly
pure and empty, return to its original, natural,
childlike state. Not only according to the spirit,
but according to the letter, of Bacon’s words, the
human understanding in its original state is desti-
tute of all notions whatever. He himself calls
the understanding, thus purified, “ intellectus
abrasus;” he himself compares the mind to a
thrashing-floor, which must be cleansed, levelled,
and swept out. In this labour consists the nega-
tive task of his philosophy ; the first book of his
* Novum Organum” is expressly occupied with
the restoration of this “‘ expurgata, abrasa, equata
mentis arena.” What Bacon calls the empty
floor, is the empty tablet of Locke; the thought
is the same, and the words are essentially the
same likewise. Bacon says that the human mind
should be made like an empty tablet. Locke
says that it is this by nature. In fact, it must be,
if Bacon does not require an impossibility. What
Bacon insists upon, as the condition precedent of
his philosophy, is made by Locke the principle of
his,—namely, the non-existence of “ innate ideas.”
Experience is acquired knowledge; “innate ideas”
are not acquired, but original, naturally inherent
knowledge. The philosophy of experience must,
as a matter of course, deny “innate ideas.” The
denial is expressed by Bacon, and repeated by
Locke with a great number of arguments.

* INNATE IDEAS.” 439

Hence the reason is apparent why Locke is
commonly regarded as the adversary par excel-
lence of “innate ideas.” It does not merely con-
sist in the fact that Bacon is less generally known.
The most important contest that has been carried
on respecting “innate ideas,” is associated with
the name of Locke. ‘‘ Innate ideas” are affirmed
by Descartes and Leibnitz, denied by Bacon and
Locke. Locke opposed Descartes, Leibnitz op-
posed Locke, each party defending a theory that
it had not founded, but adopted — Leibnitz the
Cartesian, Locke the Baconian, They are, there-
fore, to be regarded as the champions that come
forward for and against the doctrine of “ innate
ideas,” though, in other respects, the relation of
Leibnitz to Descartes is altogether different from
that of Locke to Bacon. Against Bayle, Leib-
nitz wrote the most popular and exoteric of his
works, the “ Théodicée ;” against Locke, the most
profound and esoteric, the ‘* Nouveaux Essais sur
YEntendement Humain.”

Locke, in attacking Descartes, opposes all “ in-
nate ideas,” both theoretical and practical. In
the human mind there are no innate laws, either
of the thought or of the will, neither axioms
nor maxims; therefore there is no natural know-
ledge, no natural morality, no natural religion.
Locke, conformably with the Baconian method,

FF 4

440 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

confutes in every case by means of “negative
instances.” He says that, if there are innate
ideas, all men must have them, whereas expe-
rience shows that most men know nothing of the

ec,

Fhurtd

neo“ | axioms of contradiction and identity —indeed,
~~, never acquire a knowledge of them in the whole
p»ee» course of their lives. Consequently there are no

Wav innate ideas, and the human mind is, by nature,
» &< jn every respect empty.

2. THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE.

Hence it follows that all the cultivation and
repletion of the mind —as there is none by nature
—is produced gradually. But from original
emptiness nothing can proceed. Hence human
culture arises solely from a continued intercourse
with the world, under external influences; it is a
product of experience and education; it is ac-

— quired*, as it is not original, the result of con-
ditions external to ourselves. The mode in which
human knowledge arises is, with Locke, not
a “generatio ab ovo,” as with Leibnitz, but a
“generatio xquivoca.” As, according to this
physiological theory, the conditions from which
an animate being results are not themselves
animate, so, with Locke, the conditions from

* «Tst eine Gewordene "—-yiyveru. We have not a precise
equivalent in English.—J. O.

HOBBES AND LOCKE. 441

which knowledge results are not themselves
knowledge. There is no natural knowledge, in
the sense of something originally given, but only
a natural history of human knowledge, as some-
thing gradually produced. To pursue this is the
peculiar office of Locke’s philosophy, which de-
scribes the natural history of the human under-
standing, after it has shown that the natural
understanding without history —that is to say,
without intercourse with the world, without ex-
perience and education—is altogether empty, a
tabula rasa. In this character, Locke shows us
unquestionably his descent from Bacon, his affinity
and analogy with Hobbes.

Hobbes teaches the natural origin of the state,
Locke that of knowledge, both as a generatio
equivoca. ‘The former deduces the state from
conditions that are not a state, nor even analogous
to a state, but rather the very opposite; the latter
deduces knowledge from conditions that are not
knowledge, or even preformations of knowledge,
but bear the same relation to it that emptiness
bears to repletion. Hobbes takes the natural
condition of mankind as his starting-point ; Locke,
the natural condition of the human mind. This
** status naturalis” —compared, in the one case,
with the state, in the other with knowledge—is
with both a tabula rasa,

442 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

3. KNOWLEDGE AS A PRODUCT OF PERCEPTION.
SENSATION AND REFLECTION,

The elements of all our knowledge are repre-
sentations or “ideas.” There are no innate ideas;
therefore all ideas are received from without, or
perceived. We perceive that which takes place
either within ourselves or externally to ourselves ;
hence perception is external or internal, or both
together; the former is termed by Locke sensa-
tion, the latter reflection. These are the natural
sources of all our notions, the canals of the per-
ceptions, by means of which representations are
brought to the mind. Thus the blank tablet of
the understanding is written upon.

When our notions are derived* through
perception, they are simple; when they are de~
rived from simple notions, they are complex.
Hence in the whole sphere of the human mind
there is not a single notion, the elements of
which are not perceptions. “ The soul,” says
Locke, “is like a dark vault that receives beams
of light through a few chinks, and is able to re-
tain them.” Our knowledge arises from complex
notions, these from simple notions, and these,
again, from perception. The simple notions, as
they are derived from sensation, reflection, or both

* Te, immediately.—J. O.

4
LOCKE’S DIVISION OF ‘* IDEAS.” 443

together, may be divided accordingly. They may
also be divided accordingly as they arise from
one sense alone, or several senses together. The
impenetrability of bodies is, for instance, per-
ceptible by the touch alone; it is, therefore, a
simple “ idea of sensation ” arising from one sense
alone. The motion of bodies is a change of place ;
extension is a definite occupation of space. Bodies
must be felt; their figure and change of place
must be seen. Hence motion, extension, space
are simple “ ideas of sensation” which result from
more than one sense — from sight and touch.
Thinking and willing are internal motions of
the soul. Hence they are ever perceptible by
reflection, and are, consequently, “simple ideas
of reflection.” Joy and pain are excitements of
the soul, occasioned by an external impression.
Hence they are perceived by reflection and sensa-
tion together, and are “simple ideas” arising from
both.

We never perceive the intrinsic nature of
things, but only their outward manifestation and
qualities. As all knowledge is a product of the
perception, Locke is forced to declare that we can
only know the qualities, never the intrinsic nature
of things. Thus the philosophy of experience,
having reasoned itself into sensualism, decries
metaphysics, and in its own manner anticipates the

444 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

negative result of the Critical Philosophy.* Here
is the point of agreement between Locke and Kant,
the point of difference between Locke and Bacon,
who had allowed the existence of metaphysics.
Metaphysics profess to be the knowledge of the
substance of things. Substance is the fundamental
idea of metaphysics. What is substance? Not an
innate or original idea, for, according to Locke,
there are none; neither is it a simple idea, for
substance, as a thing-in-itself (Ding-an-sich) is not
perceived; hence this idea is composed of simple
ideas, is a creature of our understanding, a merely
nominal, not a real being. The objective some-
thing indicated by the word “ substance ” remains
dark ; it is the unknown and unknowable essence
of things. We know not the substance of spirit
—of the body —of Deity; or, to express these
results of Locke in the language of Kant, there is
no rational Psychology, Cosmology, or Theology.
However, Locke was neither critical enough,
nor strict enough, to refrain from every more
definite expression respecting the concealed sub-
stance of things. In psychology he is almost a
materialist, in theology a Deist. In the former
he plants the germ of that materialistic doctrine
of the soul, that is afterwards adopted by the

* This phrase, when used by German philosophical writers,
always denotes the philosophy of Kant.

THEOLOGY OF LOCKE. 445

French philosophy; in the latter he continues
the Deism of Bacon, and commences the series of
English Deists. Locke was consistent in doubting
the immateriality of the soul, and in declaring,
with a significant “perhaps,” that it is material.
For he conceived the human mind as a blank
tablet, which was written on from without, and
therefore, in truth, an impressionable thing,
which puts on a corporeal nature. Hence arose
his controversy with Bishop Stillingfleet, who
regarded Locke’s doctrine of the soul as a gross
heresy. Hence he was declared to be a decided
materialist by opposite parties — by Stillingfleet
and Voltaire. This psychological hypothesis of
Locke was in evident contradiction to his deistical
principles. In theology Locke took for his founda-
tion the very point which he had doubted in his
psychology, basing his proof of the existence of
the Deity, upon the thinking —that is, the
spiritual nature of the human soul. The proof,
concisely expressed, is as follows: — There are
spirits; therefore (as their cause) there must be
an eternal spirit, since the spiritual cannot proceed
from the spiritless, the thinking from the non-
thinking. Either —thus reasoned Locke with
great acuteness,— either there is no thinking being
at all, or a thinking being existed from all eternity.
By thus reasoning he founded a rational theology

446 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

which might be transcended, but was not to be
contradicted by positive revelation. He denied
that that which was repugnant to reason was
worthy of belief, that revelation was to be ac-
cepted against the evidence of reason. Thus he
rejected the proposition of Tertullian that Bacon
had confirmed.

Locke was, however, compelled in strictness
to adhere to his assertion, that there is no
knowledge of the intrinsic nature of things,
and that all metaphysics professing anything of
the kind amount to mere word-wisdom. The
only knowledge is of the qualities of things,
whether of ourselves or of external bodies. Is
this knowledge objective or not? In other words,
among the qualities capable of being known,
are there any that belong to the things, apart
from our perception of them? Objective qualities
belong to things in themselves (Dinge an sich);
other qualities belong only to things perceived,
and are consequently relative; that is to say,
they are qualities of things in relation to our-
selves. Locke calls the former “ primary,” the
latter “ secondary.” Hence the question is, are
there are any primary qualities?

It is certain that within ourselves there are
mental representations and emotions of the will,
without any perception of them on our part.

PRIMARY AND SECONDARY QUALITIES. 447

Thinking and willing are therefore primary quali-
ties of the human soul. It is likewise certain that
bodies derive some of their qualities only through
our perception of them, In themselves they are
neither sour nor sweet, but first become so when
we taste them; in themselves they are neither fra-
grant nor the reverse, but first become so through
our sense of smell. These qualities are, as well as
sounds and colours, secondary. But that which
we feel corporeally does not exist in our sense of
touch alone, that which we feel and see does not
exist solely in our perception; there are objective
perceptions to which real qualities of external
bodies correspond, and such are impenetrability (or
solidity) and extension, figure and mobility. All
secondary qualities, according to Locke, must be
deduced from these primary qualities, —that is to
say, from the form, number, and motion of minute
particles. Locke, therefore, desired that all the
qualities of bodies should be mathematically and
mechanically explained; and such an explanation
was given by Newton. Here Locke’s atomistic
view is most plainly revealed; and from this may
his theory of primary qualities be explained. He
would not allow that there were any qualities in
bodies but those that belong to atoms, — viz.
solidity, extension, and mobility; and he there-
fore could not concede to physics any but a
mathematical and mechanical explanation. To

448 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

explain a thing is to trace it to its causes, or to
discover the natural causal connection of phe-
nomena. Substance is, with Locke, a general
idea, a mere nominal being —a word; causality,
on the other hand, is a real relation.

If we compare Locke with Bacon, we find that
he has given a psychological explanation of expe-
rience; and that he has explained it, in conformity
with Baconian principles, from sensuous percep-
tion. He has defended the Baconian against the
Cartesian principles, and expressed the philosophy
of experience in the more definite and narrower
form of sensualism. The empirical is with Locke
identical with the sensuous; and this is the limit-
ing criterion of human knowledge. The under-
standing never comprehends the sensible. That
which cannot be known by the senses, cannot be
known at all. Sensuous perception is the root,
and sensible things are the sole objects of human
knowledge. Of things themselves only the quali-
ties—not the substance—can be known; and of
' these qualities, only some are objective and be-
long to the intrinsic nature of things. Thus,
after Locke has explained and limited experience
from a sensualistic point of view, human know-
ledge is reduced to a very small residue of ob-
jective elements. Nothing objective can be known,
but the primary qualities of bodies, and the causal

SENSUALISM AND SCEPTICISM. 449

connection of phenomena. All else is either not
to be known at all—as the intrinsic nature of
things, —or is mere sensuous perception — as the
secondary qualities of bodies. This is the exact)
ésum total of Locke’s philosophy. The question
now remains, whether a strictly sensualistic point
of view can permanently secure the last residue
of human knowledge, or whether, on a closer ex-
amination, both the constituents, one after another,
must be abandoned. First comes the inquiry,
whether the primary qualities of bodies are really
objective, independently of our perception? If
they are not, there are but secondary qualities,—
that is to say, sensuous perceptions. Thus we
know nothing of external things, but only our
own impressions; and all human knowledge is
thoroughly subjective, or nothing but empirical
self-knowledge. Next comes the inquiry, whe-
ther causality is a real relation apart from our
perception, and independent of it. If it is not, the
last necessary and objective connection that com-
bines the representations of the human mind into
knowledge is destroyed; and with this copula the
last support of our knowledge falls away, ex-
perience becomes causal perception, and con-
sequently the philosophy of experience becomes
scepticism. At these results the English philo-
sophy arrives, by pursuing the sensualistic point

GG

450 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

of view with logical consistency. The first step
is taken by the Irishman George Berkeley; the
second and last, by the Scotsman David Hume.
Berkeley transforms knowledge as acquired by
experience into empirical self-knowledge; Hume
into a mere faith in experience. While Hobbes
takes the middle position, and forms the transition
between Bacon and Locke, Berkeley is similarly
placed between Lockeand Hume. Thus the three
nations united under the British Empire, all take
part in the history of empirical philosophy. Each,
by means of its representative, marks a crisis in
the history of empirism, which is founded in
England, and when developed progresses to scep-
ticism, which is prepared in Ireland, and per-
fected in Scotland. We have shown that Hobbes
and Locke were consistent Baconians; it will
now be seen that Berkeley neither is nor de-
sires to be anything but a consistent Locke,
and that Hume neither is nor desires to be any-
thing but a consistent Berkeley. The three
English philosophers are contemporaries of the
great epochs in the national history of modern
England. Bacon, the founder of empirism,
and the immediate follower of the Reformation,
began his career with the establishment of the
House of Stuart, and the foundation of the United
Kingdom under James I. Hobbes sees the de-

THE FRENCH “ ENLIGHTENMENT.” 45]

thronement of the Stuarts, the republic under
Cromwell, and the restoration of monarchy in the
person of Charles II.*; Locke’s epoch is marked
by the second dethronement of the Stuarts, and
the establishment of the House of Orange; his
work on the Human Understanding belongs
exactly to the period of the English revolution,
and precedes the French revolution by exactly a
century.

\)

a, “fers, a ALA 4 beg a
Ill. Toe Frenéu “ ENLiGuTenment.” /-“<¢:

As Hobbes and Locke have their root in Bacon,
so the French philosophy of the 18th century
has its root in Locke, being related to the Eng-
lish philosophy as a colony to the mother country.
It is not our purpose here to examine this colony
more closely, or to follow out in detail the views
of the French “ enlightenment.” Locke’s pro-
pagandist was Voltaire, who transplanted the
Baconian mode of thought to France, and set it
in the place of the Cartesian, which had already
been exploded by Pierre Bayle. Voltaire, one
of the most fortunate and influential writers that
the world ever saw, was at the same time one of
the narrowest disciples of Locke’s philosophy,

* His “ Leviathan” is the expression of English absolutism.—
Author’s Note,

GG 2

{4 R44, as
i.
7 OG,

452 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

which in itself opened no very broad prospect.
Never was such wealth of esprit combined with
such poverty of thought. Never did the so-called
‘‘ enlightenment” extend its conquests so rapidly,
so widely, and so playfully. “The world was |
astonished,” says a serious student of history*,
“to find how wise it had grown within thirty
years by means of this man.” Voltaire saw and
judged everything through the medium of Locke,
to such an extent that he even infected his
dramatic personages with the English philoso-
phy, and made the heroine of his ‘ Christian
tragedy,” Zaire, talk as if she had studied the
Essay on the Human Understanding. She speaks
of the blank tablets of the mind, that are written
upon by the influences of the world and educa-
tion. All the contradictions of his philosophical
master were adopted by this most docile of pupils,
who, by his own talent, was able to make them
easy and agreeable. He converted English phi-
losophy into a French fashion, depriving it of all
that was too solid or too difficult for such a posi-
tion. Voltaire was also, like Locke, though in a
less serious and inquiring manner, a Deist, whose
views were in truth materialistic and sceptical.
His Deism afforded him an opportunity for elo-

* Spittler, in his “ Geschichte der Christlichen Kirche,” vol. ii
p- 431.

THE FRENCH ENCYCLOPZDISTS. 453

quent effusions; his materialism, on the other
hand, allowed him to show the don sens in con-
junction with the esprit fort; and the common-
places of scepticism, in the mouth of a Voltaire,
sounded like critical acuteness. It was Condillac,
however, who systematically carried out the prin-
ciples of Locke, and in his analysis of human
knowledge* brought sensualism to perfection,
deducing all human knowledge from sensation
alone, and leaving only one result possible,—ma-
terialism in its most naked form. Condillac was
followed by the Encyclopedists; and his mate-
rialism was further elaborated by the Holba-
chians, represented by Lamettrie and the “ Sys-
téme de la Nature.” The tendency of the
Baconian philosophy from the time of Locke is
in England towards scepticism, which is finally

attained in Hume; in France towards mate- ~

rialism—the light weight of which is suited to the
capacity of light talents, whose extreme rear-
guard has come down to our own days, to end, it
would seem,in Germany. The less the power of
thought required by a philosophical theory, the
further will it naturally extend.

* As contained in the “ Essais sur Origine des Connaissances
Humaines,” 1746, and the “ Traité des Sensations,” 1754.

@a3

*

454 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

TV. THE S0-CALLED IDEALISM OF BERKELEY.

The appearance of Berkeley among the English
philosophers is seldom understood. Most are so
surprised to find in the midst of decided material-
ists a philosopher who looks like an ultra-idealist,
that they are tempted to award the latter a to-
tally different position than historically belongs
to him. An error of this sort is committed by an
eminent historian of modern philosophy*, who
transfers Berkeley from the ranks of the English
to the ranks of the German philosophers, and
places him with Leibnitz, as if he were the perfec-
tion of the latter. Berkeley is not the consistent
Leibnitz, but the consistent Locke. With Leib-
nitz he has no historical point of contact ; he rests
upon Locke, as Hume rests upon him. Berkeley
takes an historical and philosophical position be-
tween Locke and Hume, as the link in the series
that marks a transition. It has been said that both
- Berkeley and Leibnitz attack Locke; and, from the
opposition thus common to both, an endeavour has
been made to put them on the same logical level; .
but we cannot deduce the equality of two magni-
tudes from the fact that they are both unequal to
a third. Are not Locke and Leibnitz both ad-

* Erdmann, in his “Geschichte der neuern Philosophie,” ii, 2.

ULTRA-SENSUALISM OF BERKELEY. 455

versaries of Descartes, and at the same time op-
posed to each other on the very point which they
attack in Descartes, namely, the doctrine of the
mind? Leibnitz is just as far removed from
Berkeley as from Locke. He opposes the prin-
ciples of Locke that are shared by Berkeley, who
only disagrees with Locke as to consequences.
It seems that this error has been occasioned by a
word. The name “idealism,” which has been
given to Berkeley’s philosophy, has misled many
to assign this philosopher to a family very dif-
ferent from that to which he belongs. Some
would make him akin to Kant*, others to Leib-
nitz. Both are wrong. If by “idealism” we
understand a tendency opposed to the sensual-
istic, no expression is less suited to the philo-
sophy of Berkeley ; compared with that of Locke,
it is not less, but more, sensualistic. Locke was
not enough a sensualist in the eyes of Berkeley.
He was so in his principles, but not in his conse-
quences; and this is the contradiction that Berke-
ley points out and solves. Locke had laid down
the principle, that all knowledge must consist in
sensuous perception; and yet he spoke of things
that could never be perceived, such as material
substances or bodies in general, as objects of

* Garve, in his critical review of the “Kritik der reinen Ver-
nunft,” published in the Géttingen “ Gelehrte Anzeiger,” 1782.
Q@ag4

456 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

knowledge. He had laid down the nominalistic
principle, that generalities are words and not
things; and yet he allowed in bodies certain pri-
mary qualities, such as extension, mobility, so-
lidity. Is not material substance or body an
abstract “idea,” an empty generality? Are not
extension, mobility, solidity, general abstract
“ ideas,” which, consistently with his own prin-
ciples, Locke should have declared to be mere
words, not things — not objective qualities — not
real perceptible existences? But he said the very
opposite. He was, tried by his own standard, too
little of a sensualist, too little of anominalist. He
still held that some insensible things were per-
ceptible, that some generalities were real.

1. THINGS AS PERCEPTIONS.

To this point Berkeley directs all his acuteness,
—an attention thoroughly schooled by nominalism.
There are no general things or bodies, but only
individual things, perceptible by the senses. There
are no more any general bodies than there are
general triangles; the existing triangle is always
definite, either rectangular, acute, or obtuse.
Neither is there any general extension, motion, or
solidity, but every conceivable extension is deter-
mined as large or small, every motion as swift or
slow, all impenetrability in body, as hard or soft.

NO PRIMARY QUALITIES. 457

But all quantitative differences, whether of ex-
tension or motion, are manifestly relative. If I
change my point of view, or sharpen my sight
with an instrument, things will appear to me
larger or smaller. Thus greatness and smallness
are phenomena of the human vision, as well as
light, figure, and colour; they only exist in my
perception; and as every conceivable extension has
a definite magnitude, without which it does not
exist at all, so extension itself is not an objective
quality of things in themselves, but merely be-
longs to my own perception. The same may
be said of motion and solidity. The latter is
either hard or soft; but hardness and softness are
merely human sensations, and exist as little with-
out our sense of feeling as sounds without our
ears, colour without our eyes, sweetness or sour-
ness without our taste. Therefore what Locke
calls the primary qualities do not exist. Hence,
to speak in Locke’s language, there are only se-
_ condary qualities*, or, all the perceptible qualities
of things are secondary ; that is, they exist in us,
not externally. But if everything perceptible is
within ourselves, what is external to ourselves?
Things —1is the answer. But there are no gene-
ral things; there are only individual sensible
things. What are sensible things, if I deduct

* Compare the first dialogue between Hylas and Philonous.

458 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

from them all that is sensible or perceptible ? The
same that an iron ring is, if we take away the
iron — nothing. The things, if I take away
human perception, are—nothing. Imperceptible
things are no things at all. Such nothings are
bodies and matter in general, whether I consider
them as the originals of my perceptions, or as
their cause, or as their instrument, or as anything
else. After the deduction of all sensible qualities,
after the deduction of all human perception, matter
remains equal to—nothing.* Imperceptible things
are inaudible sounds, invisible colours; that is to
say, impossibilities. Perceptible things are no-
thing but sensuous perceptions, as colours are no-
thing but phenomena of sight. Thus, by his
nominalistic criticism of the philosophy of Locke,
Berkeley arrives at the proposition, there is nothing
but sensuous perception; that is to say, there is
nothing beyond perceiving and perceived (per-
ceptible) beings. The perceiving being, Berkeley,
like Locke, calls the mind; the perceived object,
likewise with Locke, he terms a representation
or “idea;” and, in this sense, he declares there
are only minds and “ideas.” This proposition is
called the ‘‘idealism of Berkeley ;” but it is, in
fact, the sensualism of Locke, the nominalism of
Bacon, further carried out. It is the very oppo-

* Compare the second dialogue.

BERKELEY NOT AN IDEALIST. 459

site, and is indeed intended to be the opposite, of
all idealistic philosophy on the Platonic model.
This converts things into ideas, whereas Berke-
ley rightly makes his Philonous declare that he
does not convert things into ideas, but ideas into
things.* With Berkeley, things are always sen-
sible things ; and these are sensible impressions or
perceptions. Sometimes he says, in direct words,
ideas or sensible impressions. Philonous thus
instructs his materialistic friend: “I see this
cherry, I feel it, I taste it; and.I am sure nothing
cannot be seen, or felt, or tasted; it is, therefore,
real. Take away the sensations of softness, mois-
ture, redness, tartness, and you take away the
cherry. Since it is not a being distinct from sen-
sation, a cherry, I say, is nothing but a congeries
of sensible impressions, or ideas perceived by
various senses.”

But why does Berkeley call things “ideas,”
when he only apprehends them in a sensualistic
sense? To make it clear that things are facts in
ourselves, not external to ourselves.

Perceptions are only in ourselves, and only
possible through the nature of perceiving beings.
But what are facts after the deduction of their
perceptible qualities? They are nothing. There-
fore they are and exist only in ourselves ; that is,

* Third dialogue.

460 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

they exist as perceptions only in the perceiving
beings. Being perceived is, with Berkeley, the
same as existing. As a nominalist, he says, there
is nothing imperceptible (or general); as a sensu-
alist, there is nothing perceptible without percep-
tion, nothing sensible without the senses: and
that no perception exists without a perceiving
being, is manifest. Berkeley’s so-called idealism
is a consequence of his nominalistic principle; if
there is nothing imperceptible, there is nothing
but what is perceptible, —that is to say, nothing
but perceptible objects and perceiving subjects.
The former are ideas; the latter are minds: hence
the proposition, there are only “ideas” and minds.
In the natural validity of human knowledge, for
all practical purposes, no alteration is occasioned
by this theory. Berkeley can perfectly accom-
modate himself to the ordinary view of things,
which he even confirms. Only, what are called

things in ordinary language, he calls “ideas,”

or
things in us, which, as such, are as real and stand —
on as secure a basis as they do in the opinion of
the unthinking, who fancy that nature is external

to ourselves.

2. PERCEPTIONS AS THINGS.

We do not perceive things themselves, but only
their copies in our minds; we only perceive our

; .
PERCEPTIONS AS THINGS. 461

own impressions. ‘This is a proposition that has
not first to be proved by Berkeley, as it is already
admitted by every one. But most persons be-
lieve that the real things stand behind their im-
pressions, and are, as it were, the originals that
are copied and reflected in our senses. This
opinion—this belief in things, the originals of the
copies, external to ourselves —is what Berkeley
seeks to destroy. ‘The supposed copies of the

’ things are sensuous impressions — our own per-

ceptions. Now, let these impressions or percep-~
tions of ours be abstracted from anything, and
what remains? Nothing. What, then, is the
supposed thing, the original of the copy? Nothing
again. What, then, is the supposed copy? It is
itself the original; our perceptions are the real
things. Hence Berkeley says, I convert “ideas”
(%, e. perceptions) into things. In the nature of
things he manifestly alters nothing whatever ; he
only corrects our view of it. What all of you,
he would say, look upon as images are the real
things; and what you look upon as the real
things are— nothing. ‘To this point alone are all
his explanations and proofs directed. The proof
that the supposed copies are the things, and the
supposed originals are nothing, is very simple.

If we abstract from the things their perceived and

perceptible qualities — that is to say, our own im-

e
462 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

pressions, —everything, without exception, be-
comes—nothing. And yet they must remain
what they really are, if the impressions that have
been abstracted are only their copies.

Our perceptions are things. This is the clearest
and most concise formula for Berkeley’s point of
view. If they were only the copies of things, it
would follow, as a necessary consequence, that
our knowledge is vain and delusive —that we
only know the outside show of things, and not ©
the things themselves. The faith in things with-
out us, the originals of our impressions, logically
leads to scepticism. Hence Berkeley thinks that
he has destroyed the very basis of scepticism.
His dialogues were directed against the sceptics ;
and he did not know that within his own theory
he was fostering the germ of a scepticism that
was afterwards to be developed by an acute
successor. |

For ordinary refutations Berkeley is prepared ;
and he overcomes them with dexterity. If our
perceptions are the real things, it may be ob-
jected that, as a necessary consequence, the sun
really revolves round the earth, the stick is really
broken in the water—and the like. To this
Berkeley replies, Certainly the movement of the
sun is a real perception, a phenomenon well
established in the eye of an inhabitant of our

RELIGION OF BERKELEY. 463

planet. But who bids us infer from this that the
same phenomenon will also be perceived from
another point of view, remote from the earth?
In this case it is not the perception that is wrong
and without foundation, but the consequence that
is deduced from it.

3. THE DEITY IS THE ORIGINATOR OF OUR PERCEPTIONS,

But if our perceptions are “ ideas,” and these are
the things themselves, nature seems to be resolved
into a mere creature of the human mind, and to
lose all its security. How, then, are we to dis-
tinguish these “ ideas” from mere ideas — things
from fancies — the order of nature, governed by
fixed laws, from the sport of human imagination ?
Where is the difference between reality and
show? Our own fancies, which are mere “ ideas,”
we ourselves make; the perceptions or things,
which are true “ideas,” we do not make; they
are given to us as facts, they are data, of which
neither we ourselves nor external things are the
cause, and the cause of which can therefore be no
other than the Deity. As the belief in external
things leads to scepticism, so does the conviction
that our perceptions or “ideas” are themselves
the real things lead us to the Deity, and, conse-
quently, to religion. Thus Berkeley thought he

464 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

had established religion by destroying the basis
of scepticism; his dialogues were directed, at the
same time, against sceptics and atheists. In a
word, Berkeley affirms the knowledge founded
on sensuous perception, and ultimately deduces it
from the Deity, as he cannot deduce it from
material beings, the existence of which he denies.
In this respect he has a certain affinity with |
Malebranche, with whom we might compare him,
as we might compare Locke with Descartes.
But in the main point they are opposed to each
other, Berkeley denying on principle what
Malebranche maintained on principle, the ex-
istence of matter external to the mind. This
was the difference between the two, that precluded
all agreement between them. It is said that a
violent controversy with Berkeley, who visited
Malebranche on his dying-bed, accelerated the
death of the latter.

We have remarked in Locke the double con-
tradiction that he denied metaphysics or ontology
as the doctrine of the nature of things, and yet
(though not without hesitation) pronounced certain
decisions respecting the substance of the soul, of
the body, and of the Deity; that, on the one hand,
he doubted the existence of the human mind,
and, on the other hand, maintained the existence
of the Deity, which he proved from the fact of

LOCKE AND BERKELEY. 465

the human mind. Thus in Locke Deism and
materialism were united in a contradictory manner.
Berkeley avoids both these contradictions. He
converts ontology into psychology without leay-
ing any residue; for he converts all things into
sensuous perceptions. He is a decided Deist*, a
decided opponent of materialism, which he refutes
both on first principles and in its consequences.
Here is the difference between Berkeley and
Locke. The difference is not, as is commonly
supposed, between idealist and realist; but the
case, rightly apprehended, stands thus: Berkeley
is not less but more sensualistic than Locke, and,
consequently, more of a realist. And for this
very reason Berkeley is less materialistic than
Locke, or, rather, he is not a materialist at all.
He attacks materialism, he would prevent the sen-
sualistic philosophy from committing the gross
error of degenerating into materialism, —an error
that began with Locke and was carried out by

* It will be observed that Dr. Fischer uses this word as the
opposite of Atheist, and not necessarily to denote a disbeliever in
revelation ; for such a character could hardly be predicated of
Berkeley. Ambiguity might have been removed by the sub-
stitution of the word “ Theist,” which in ordinary parlance is
supposed to be without the negative sense attached to “ Deist ;”
but as some of the persons called “Deists” in the course of the
work were so in every sense of the word, I have deemed it ex-
pedient to avoid a distinction which Dr. Fischer has not drawn.
—J. O.

HH

466 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

the French. With Berkeley sensualism takes a
decided position as the antagonist of materialism ;
and rightly, for if all is but sensuous perception,
matter — such as it is asserted to be by its philo-
sophical advocates —is nothing but an empty
thought, a mere word, since of this matter there
is manifestly no sensuous perception. This view
constitutes the fundamental thought, the leading
idea of the whole philosophy of Berkeley. It
was natural that common sense*, which attached
itself to Locke, followed in the train of ma-
terialism, and declared itself against Berkeley.
Indeed, by adhering to words, there was no
great difficulty in perverting Berkeley’s anti-
materialistic tendency into an insane idealism,
that could be refuted in sport. Voltaire’s wit
was here quite in its element. In his eyes Locke
alone was a true philosopher; but he never
thoroughly understood even Locke, or he would
necessarily have recognised him in Berkeley.
«Ten thousand cannon-balls and ten thousand
dead men,” says Voltaire, “are ten thousand
ideas according to the philosophy of Berkeley ;” f
and this he thinks is a refutation, as if Berkeley
had not known and already answered such objec-

* Der gewdhnliche Verstand ; literally, the “ ordinary under-
standing.”— J. O.
t Philosophical Dictionary, article “ Corps.”

ULTRA-SENSUALISM OF BERKELEY. 467

tions. Voltaire should tell us what is not per-
ceptible in a single cannon-ball; then he will
have confuted Berkeley. We will dispense with
the ten thousand.

If we would arrive at the sum total of Berkeley’s
philosophy, it is deduced from the proposition
that sensuous perceptions are things, which pro-
position is itself no more than the conclusion and
final result of sensualism. If perceptions are
things, it follows that all human knowledge is, in
truth, empirical self-knowledge, that in all cases
we only experience our own given state, and that
thus all experience can merely be self-experience.
Berkeley has done more than establish this fact.
If knowledge altogether is no more than ex-
perience, as Bacon has said, if all experience is no
more than sensuous perception, as Locke has
said, we must then conclude, with Berkeley, that
we know nothing but our own impressions, that
our impressions are the things themselves, and
that, therefore, the knowledge of things, if we
rightly investigate the matter, is no more than a
knowledge of ourselves, or, more strictly speaking,
experience of ourselves. Given facts constitute
all that we know. Our knowledge is therefore
experience ; and Kant very correctly decided that
Berkeley’s “ idealism” was of an empirical kind,

and that Garve understood neither this philosophy
HH 2

468 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

nor the Kantian, as he could not comprehend the
difference between the two. The facts that we
experience are our own perceptions, but not our
creations; they are the work of the Deity, and
therefore amount, in truth, to a miracle. Thus
human experience, after the loss of external
things, becomes an incomprehensible fact, like
life, in the sense of the “ Occasionalists.” If
philosophy will not stop for ever at this point, it
must doubt the miracle, and thus destroy the
security of human knowledge on its last founda-
tion.

V. Tue Scepticism or Hume.

Hume deduces the negative sum total of the
English philosophy as it has existed from the
time of Bacon. He preserves every result of his
predecessors; only he will not, like Berkeley, make
good the last deficit of philosophy by means of
religion, but sets it down to the account of the
human faculty of knowledge. Hume is con-
vinced, with Bacon, that all knowledge must be
experience; with Locke, that all experience con-
sists of sensuous perceptions; with Berkeley, that
sensuous perceptions are the sole objects of our
knowledge. Therefore, concludes Hume, all
human knowledge consists simply in this, that

DAVID HUME. 469

Wg perceive certain impressions in ourselves.
Where, then, is its objectivity? where its neces-
sity? And if human knowledye is deficient in
these two characteristics, where is this know-
ledge itself? <

ne

e
1, THE OBJECTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 2

All our representations, according to Hume, are
either sensuous impressions or the copies that these
have left. They are only distinguished in degree,
accordingly as they are stronger or weaker, more or
less lively. The liveliest are the impressions them-
selves; the weaker are the thoughts or “ ideas.”
The impressions are the originals, from which the
“ideas,” without exception, are deduced. There
is no “idea” that did not originate from an im-
pression; this decides Hume as a genuine philo-
sopher of the stamp of Locke. Consequently
the “idea” is related to the impression, as the
copy to the original. Hence the explanation of
an “idea” consists in showing the impression of
which this * idea” is a copy, and which is con-
sequently the original of the “idea.” Our im-
pressions are the originals of all our representa-
tions; thus decides Hume as one who has turned
Berkeley’s investigations to his own advantage.
Whether our impressions have external things for

HH 3

470 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

their own originals, is a question with which
Hume is but little concerned; for, supposing
there are such originals, a knowledge of them
would only be possible if clear representations
— that is, clear impressions — of them existed in
ourselves. But how can we know this? We
can only know it by means of an impression, and
there is none that decides on the clearness of
an impression, or the relation between an im-
pression and a thing. In every case, therefore,
human nature lacks the criterium which alone
secures the objectivity of our “ ideas.”

If, therefore, there is any knowledge, its objects
are only “ideas,” which themselves are nothing
but copies of impressions; thus we only compre-
hend our impressions, not the objective nature of
things. In this sense, there is no objective know-
ledge. Thus is scepticism already half-expressed.
Tt follows, as a matter of course, that there is
no knowledge of the super-sensual. The super-
sensual makes no impression upon us; therefore we
have no knowledge of it. In this sense all meta-
physics is an impossible science.*

2. MATHEMATICS AND EXPERIENCE.
It is thus established that we know nothing but
our own ideas, which are based upon impressions.

* Compare “Enquiry concerning the Human Understand-
ing,” i. and ii,

NECESSARY JUDGMENTS. 471

But our own “ideas” only constitute knowledge
when we connect them, and perceive their agree-
ment or disagreement with each other, All know-
ledge is a necessary connection of * ideas.” Now,
what is necessary ? That which must be as it is;
that of which the contrary is impossible; that
which cannot be contradicted. The “ proposition
of identity” which declares that a thing is what it
is, and according to which all the attributes (Merk-
male) that it has, and the attributes of these attri-
butes, belong to it—this proposition cannot be
contradicted. Therefore those ‘ ideas” are neces-
sarily connected, of which one is contained in the
other, or can be deduced from the other. There-
fore every judgment is necessary which, like the
* proposition of identity,” is founded on the mere
analysis of an * idea ;” every connection of “ideas”
is necessary that is attained by mere syllogistic
deduction (Schlussfolgerung). Such are the
judgments and conclusions of mathematics. The
judgments of mathematics are analytical*; their
conclusions are syllogistic; the knowledge belong-
ing to them is demonstrative. f

On the contrary, experience judges otherwise
than mathematics with respect to nature and

* This, it is scarcely necessary to state, is given as the opinion
of Hume. Kant has proved that mathematical judgments are

not analytical, but synthetical.—J. O.
¢ Enquiry concerning the Human Understanding, iv.

HH 4

472 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

history. It combines different facts, different
“ideas,” of which one is not contained in the
other; of which, therefore, one cannot be deduced
from the other by analysis, but is added to it
by synthesis. Is there, then, a necessary syn-
thesis in experience? Our “ ideas,” according to
Hume, are combined or associated in three ways, —
by similarity, by contiguity (or a connection in
time and space), and lastly by causality, or the
connection of cause and effect.*

Of these three means of combination, causality
alone lays claim to the character of necessity ; for
it is obvious that “ ideas” which are only similar,
or contiguous with regard to space or time, are
not necessarily connected so that one must neces-
sarily follow from the other. The only question
that arises is, whether causality is a necessary
connection. To this question the whole force of
Hume’s investigation is directed. So much is
established, that all judgments expressive of
knowledge are either analytical or synthetical.
The pure judgments of the reasonf and mathe-
matical judgments are analytical; the judgments
of experience are synthetical, and their synthesis
consists in causality. Now, is this synthesis
necessary ?

* Enquiry concerning the Human Understanding, iii.
t Such as the propositions of identity and contradiction.—J.O.

IDEA OF CAUSALITY. ” “870

3. EXPERIENCE AS A PRODUCT OF CAUSALITY.

The causal connection of ‘ ideas” is necessary,
if it is not susceptible of contradiction. It is not
susceptible of contradiction, if, by the mere
analysis of the “idea” A, we discover that A is
the cause or power that affects B. But, however
thoroughly we may analyse A, we shall never find
in it either B itself, or the power which A exer-
cises upon B. B is not contained in A; the effect
is not contained in the cause; the power of A is
not contained in the “idea” of A. Thus the
effect can never be deduced from the cause, or—
in other words—the causal connection of different
“ideas” is not discovered by mere logical deduc-
tion; consequently, not by pure reason. Let us
take, for instance, the “idea” of fire. The mere
analysis of this “idea” will never explain to me
the effect of fire upon wood, will never show
me the power and influence of fire upon other
things. If I take the “idea” of a ball, I cannot,
by any process of logical deduction from this
*‘idea,” discover what motion the ball will com-
municate to another ball, with which it comes
into collision. And so it is in every case. Thus
the relation between cause and effect is met wnsus-
ceptible of contradiction; for it is not a relation of

474 -FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

identity. Hence causality is no conception of the
reason, or—what is the same thing—is not @
priori. There is no syllogistic deduction that
will lead us from the cause A to the effect B; for
syllogisms are impossible without a middle term.
Where is the middle term between cause and
effect? Where is the middle term between an
experience and a similar experience ? *
Nevertheless we require the causal connection
in all our empirical judgments. From causes we
constantly infer effects; from similar causes,
similar effects. On the idea of causality is based
all the knowledge we derive from experience.
Now, upon what is this idea based? As it is
not & priori, it must be based upon a datum a
posteriort. But upon what datum? — All “ideas,”
without exception, are based upon sensuous im-
pressions, of which they are the copies. There
is no “idea,” the original of which was not an
impression. What, then, is the impression of
which the idea of causality is a copy? This
question touches the focus of Hume’s problem.
Every impression is a fact that we perceive.
But the connection between facts we do not per-
ceive. Wesce lightning, and we hear thunder,
but not the influence that connects them, not
the power by which the first phenomenon pro-

* Enquiry concerning the Human Understanding, iv.

IDEA OF CAUSALITY. 475

duces the second. We experience the effect, but
not the efficiency, the cause, the power. We
now feel a disposition to a certain “idea;” then
this “idea” arises in our minds; then follows a
movement of our bodies. But the power itself
by which the will produces the “idea” in the
mind, and motion in the body, remains concealed
from us. Of this power there is no impression,
and therefore no ‘‘idea.” Thus there is no im-
pression the copy of which could be the idea of
causality. This is the great difficulty discovered
by Hume—the difficulty which renders the idea
of causality dubious. Every “ idea” requires an
impression, to which it may be referred as a copy
toan original. But there is no impression, either
internal or external, of which we could say,
* Look, this is the original of the idea of cause —
of causality!” Thus this idea, on which all our
empirical knowledge depends, becomes a veritable
riddle. It cannot be found by mere reason;
neither, it seems, can it be found by means of an
impression. It is not @ priori; neither, it seems,
is it @ posteriort. Whence then does it come?
Herein consists the dilemma. We must either
give up as impossible, and regard as incompre-
hensible, the whole of our empirical knowledge
together with causality, or we must deduce this
idea from an impression. But this impression is

476 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

nowhere given. If, therefore, there is any such
impression at all, it must arise gradually, — must
be formed from the impressions that are given.
How is this possible ?

4, CAUSALITY AS A PRODUCT OF EXPERIENCE.—CUSTOM AND
FAITH,

Granted that the impression A is followed by
the impression B, we find that in this single in-
stance of succession two facts are associated. They
are associated, but not (necessarily) connected.
They would be so connected if B were attached
to A in such a manner that it would follow from
A as a necessary consequence. Now, no one can
arrive at the conclusion, that what has happened
once will happen always. But suppose the same
succession is repeated, that the impression A, as
often as we receive it, is followed by B, then the
transient association becomes a permanent associa-
tion. Through this permanent association which
we experience in our impressions, we gradually
become accustomed to pass from the impression A
to the impression B, so that when the former
takes place, we expect the other; that is to say,
we expect that B will follow A, because it has
always followed it to the present moment. From
the transition from one “ idea” to the other arises,
by a continual repetition of the same succession,
an habitual transition. What has appeared merely

FAITH IN CAUSALITY. 477

associated in a single case, appears necessarily
connected when it is found in many similar cases ;
but this is merely because we have grown accus-
tomed to the association.* This habit, like all
habits, consists merely in an often-repeated ex-
perience. We have so often observed one impres-
sion or fact succeed another, that our imagination)
is involuntarily determined, when we receive one |
impression, to expect the other—is compelled to —
pass from A to B. I find myself involuntarily
determined ; that is to say, I feel: every habit is
based upon a feeling. This feeling is likewise an |
impression, — not one that is immediately given, |
but one that is gradually produced; and this im-
pression, this feeling, is the original, of which the
idea of causality is the copy. By dint of this
feeling I can indeed never know or demonstrate
the connection between two facts; but I believe in
the connection,—I expect, by an involuntary feel-
ing, by a sort of instinct, that if one fact occurs,
the other will not be wanting,—I believe that one
is a consequence of the other. This faith is not
evident and demonstrative, like a deduction of the
reason ; but it leads to the conclusions of our expe-
rience, and forms the ground of all empirical cer-
tainty.

* Enquiry concerning the Human Understanding, vii. 2.
t Ibid. v. Compare vii. 2.

478 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

Thus does Hume solve his problem. | All hu-
man knowledge is either demonstrative (as in the
case of mathematics) or empirical, All empirical
knowledge consists in the causal connection of
facts. The idea of causality is founded on a be-
lief, this belief upon a feeling, this feeling upon a
habit, which itself consists in nothing else than
an often-repeated experience. Consequently,
there is no knowledge that is objective and neces-
sary. None that is objective, for the objects of our
knowledge are merely our impressions and the

“ideas” copied from them; none that ave necessary, »

for the ground of our knowledge is not an axiom,
but—an exercise of faith. Here is a perfect ex-
pression of scepticism. The doubt respecting
knowledge arises from the perception that all the
inferences of our experience are nothing but
matters of faith; it is upon this faith that the
doubt is founded. Hume himself calls his theory
*‘ moderate scepticism,” because he does not design
to alter anything in human knowledge (so far as
it 1s experience), but merely to enlighten our
views respecting it.* He will only show us the
guide that we are practically to follow throughout
the whole of our knowledge. Hume is well aware
that “nature is stronger than doubt,” that man-
kind will never cease to seek experiences, to draw

_* Enquiry concerning the Human Understanding, xii. 3.

POWER OF CUSTOM. 479

inferences from them, and to regard these infe-
rences as stable truths by which they can regulate
their actions, however acutely the sceptic may show
that they are without foundation.* He would
neither lessen nor depreciate the genuine treasure
of human knowledge, but merely instruct us as
to the means by which the treasure was acquired,
and can also be really increased. He enlightens
us as to the true ground of our knowledge. His
scepticism destroys nothing but a supposed ground,
an imaginary faculty, that can never lead us
to fruitful and practical knowledge, but only to
apparent truths and fallacious “ ideas.”

These are the limits set to human knowledge
by the scepticism of Hume. Beyond experience
there is no knowledge whatever; and even within
the region of experience our knowledge extends
only so far ascustom. Within the region of habit
there is no final or perfect certainty, but a mere
proximate subjective certainty—or probability.
Habit does not prove; it only believes. That
which is beyond habit is still possible; that to
which we are accustomed is not proved —is not
so necessary that its opposite is impossible.

** Custom,” says Hume, “ is the great guide of
human life.”t{ Hence, from his point of view, he

* Enquiry concerning the Human Understanding, xii, 2.
t Ibid. vi. t Ibid. v. 1.

480 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

could rightly assert that he was opposed not to the
conclusions of “ common sense” (das gewohnliche
Bewusstseyn), but rather, on the contrary, con-.
firmed its decrees by the most immediate formula.
For what does common sense desire more than to
think and act according to custom? And so far is
Hume from depriving it of the power to do this,
that his scepticism leaves nothing but custom as
the basis of human thought and action. Man has
always been regulated by custom. Hume vindi-
cates the power of custom, shows in what its right
consists, proving that men have not only a right
to think according to custom, but that, in fact,
this is their only right. What Schiller makes
Wallenstein say with heroic contempt, exactly
expresses the sober conviction of Hume: —
“What we have most to dread

Is common-place, perpetual yesterday, =

That ever warning, ever still returns;

Potent to-morrow, through its force to-day.

For man of common-places is compact,
And to his nurse the name of custom gives.” *

This nurse is called by Hume the great guide
of human life; and with him it forms at the same
time the defined boundary of human knowledge.

If there is no knowledge beyond experience,
there is, at the same time, no theology but

* Death of Wallenstein, i. 4.

HUME’S VIEW OF BERKELEY. 481

that which is based upon supernatural revelation.
Hume is of the same opinion with Bacon and
Bayle, that religious faith and human reason are
reciprocally exclusive. There is, therefore, no
rational or demonstrative science whatever, except
mathematics. All the rest of human knowledge
is experience, of which custom is the only guide,
“When,” says Hume, at the conclusion of his
Enquiry, “ we use our libraries, persuaded of these
principles, what havoc must we make! If we
take in our hand any volume of divinity or school
metaphysics, for instance, let us ask, Does it
contain any abstract reasoning concerning quan-
tity or number? No. Does it contain any
experimental reasoning concerning matter of fact
and existence? No. Commit it, then, to the
flames; for it can contain nothing but sophistry ~
and illusion.” *

If we compare Hume with Berkeley, we must
say that he owes half his scepticism to the latter;
namely, so much as affirms that human knowledge
does not extend beyond our impressions, that of
this knowledge “ideas” are the only possible
objects. Hence he says, in a note to his
Enquiry, “Most of the writings of that very
ingenious author (Berkeley) form the best lessons
of scepticism, which are to be found either among

* Enquiry, xii. 3.
II

482 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

the ancient or modern philosophers, Bayle not
excepted.”* But Berkeley declared that orderly
experience was a product of the Deity, whereas
Hume regards it as a product of human custom.
At this point his scepticism is perfected and
formulised. It destroys nothing but the illusion
which regards that which is only regulated by
custom as regulated by fixed laws. To customs
there are exceptions; to laws there are none.
There are many things extra-ordinary, none
extra-legal.

If we compare Hume with Locke, we must say
that his view of the origin of our “ideas” is
equally sensualistic, and similarly negative as to
the possibility of metaphysics. Their coincidence
is in the idea of substance, which they both assert
to be a mere void; their difference is in the idea
of causality, to which Locke gives a real, Hume
merely a subjectively human value.

If we compare Hume with Bacon, we must
say that he critically established the limits of
experience, which the action-loving intellect of
Bacon himself had overstepped. And what par-
ticularises Hume is the distinction that he makes
between experience and mathematics as different
hinds of human knowledge.ft The objects of

* Enquiry, xii. 2.
+ Kant agrees to this distinction, but he changes the criterium.

INFLUENCE OF CUSTOM. 483

mathematics are magnitudes, those of experience
are facts; the mathematics judge solely by
analysis, experience solely by synthesis. Hence
there is demonstrative certainty in mathematics,
whereas experience merely attains probability or
moral certainty ; for in the one case conclusions
are drawn by reason, in the latter they are the
result of faith in habitual association.

5. CUSTOM AS A POLITICAL POINT OF VIEW.

From the reasons stated above, Hume was
necessarily a sceptic in philosophy ; for a know-
ledge based merely upon custom can only have
temporary, and cannot arrive at absolutely valid
truth. But, with Hume, custom is not merely

the ground upon which our empirical knowledge

is to be explained, but also the « guide of human
life.” So far as life is ruled by custom, it comes
within the scope of Hume’s point of view. In
philosophy principles govern; in life, custom.
Our whole life is, as Géthe’s Egmont says, the
“sweet habit of existence.” Even the natural
movements of the body must become habitual by
repeated practice, in order to be involuntary and
According to him, the judgments of mathematical science and

experience are both synthetical, but the former judges accord-

ing to intuition, the latter according to logical conception.—
Author's note,

112

i
i

484 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

free from effort. Thus healthy eating and drink-
ing, walking and standing, under the guidance of
natural instincts, become habitual functions by
repeated practice; thus also is it with reading and
writing, under the guidance of education. We
must first accustom ourselves simply to live; then
we must accustom ourselves to live in a particular
manner. Our life and our cultivation are results
of our habits; and these are the results of oft-
repeated experience. Custom alone produces our
morals; and these produce the common public life
of man, and its constitution. An alteration of
constitution is an alteration of morals and cus- °
toms. But customs arise gradually, and there-
fore must be gradually altered. If custom is
slowly progressive, so likewise must be the disuse
of custom. Here nothing arises suddenly by a
mere resolution of the will, a decree, an arbitrary
agreement. Human customs and morals in their
slow, gradual metamorphosis,—these are the
historical processes of cultivation. He who does
not understand the nature of customs and of
morals habitually acquired, he who does not take
into account this power in human life, is incapable
of understanding history, much more of making
it. ‘He does not understand mankind, much less
will he be able to goveyn it. Every sudden “ en-
lightenment,” every sudden revolution in a state,

ee eet. m is

HISTORICAL MIND OF HUME. 485

is thoroughly repugnant to history. A faith and
a state cannot be demolished, any more than they
can be produced, by a single blow. We are made
acquainted with the anti-historical view of the
Anglo-Gallic “enlightenment.” Among all the
philosophers of this “ enlightenment,” David Hume
is the only one whose views approximate to the
nature of historical life, the only one whose
thought is not repugnant to history, because he
understood that human life is governed, not by
principles and theories, but by customs. The
same principle which made him a sceptic in phi-
losophy, made him an historian fitted to judge of
men and states, a circumspect politician. He
thought historically, because he depreciated the
value of philosophical principles. In him the
philosophical sceptic and the political historian
constitute one person. If we would have a pal-
pable instance of the difference, in this respect,
between the great sceptic and the Anglo-Gallic
“enlightenment,” we need only compare the
historical works of a Hume with those of a
Voltaire.

But the consonance of the views of Hume
with history is most plainly apparent with respect
to one particular point, in treating of which the
other philosophers of his age had established a

dogma repugnant to history. Nothing shows how
113

486 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

far the so-called “ enlightenment” was removed
from all historical experience, so much as the
theory of a contract, by which an explanation of
the state had been attempted. The state and
the institutions of public life have an historical
origin; but such a contract as is taught by a
Hobbes, a Locke, a Spinoza, or a Rousseau, has
never existed in the reality, where they look for
it. Every one can see that the contract, to be
valid, presupposes a human community, or at
least a form of existence similar toa state. Hume
is the most open adversary of the contract theory,
although he also would explain the state on natural
grounds. He attacks the social contract theory,
as propounded by Rousseau and Locke.* He
sees that such a theory is opposed to all historical
experience and possibility, and is, in fact, no more
than a creation of the philosophical brain. Before
men could have been united by an express con-
tract, they must have been already united by
necessity. It was a result of necessity, without
any contract, that one commanded and the rest
obeyed. ‘Each exercise of authority in the
chieftain,” says Hume, “must have been parti-
cular, and called forth by the present exigencies
of the case. The sensible utility resulting from

* Compare “Hume’s und Rousseau’s Abhandlungen tber
den Urvertrag,” by G. Mertal. (Leipzig, 1797.)

FALLACY OF ** SOCIAL CONTRACT.” 487

his interposition, made those exertions become daily
more frequent; and this frequency gradually pro-
duced an habitual, and, if you please to call it so,
an arbitrary and therefore precarious acquiescence
in the people.”* In the place of a contract,
Hume puts custom. He gives precisely the
same explanation of the state as of knowledge,
basing the former upon habitual obedience, as he
has based the latter upon habitual experience.
Custom attaches men to the form of state to
which they have become accustomed, and secures
its duration against any violent attack. The
continuation of Wallenstein’s speech is uttered in
the very spirit of Hume:

“Woe to the impious hand that dares to touch
The dear old stock his fathers have bequeath’d !
There is a sanctifying power in years;

What age has render’d grey, appears divine.
Be in possession, then the right’s thine own,
And will be honor’d by the multitude.”

A principle repugnant to history led to conse-
quences equally repugnant. If the state was the
product of a mere arbitrary act of the human
will, an arbitrary will would have a right to anni-
hilate it at a single blow. The contract theory
led to a revolutionary theory. If it was once
established that the state had arisen from a tabula

* Essay, “ Of the Original Contract.”—J. O.
114

488 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

rasa by means of a contract, it seemed possible,
and even just, to bring it back to a tabula rasa
by means of a new contract. If one contract pro-
duced civil order, another produced civil revolu-
tion. The contract theory of a Hobbes became
a revolutionary theory in the mind of a Rousseau.
The anti- historical mode of thought was followed
by an anti-historical mode of action. The moment
arrived when the given state was actually reduced
to a tabula rasa; the French Revolution came to
an incurable rupture with history; the Contrat
Social became the gospel of the Convention; the
theoretical Rousseau was followed by the prac-
tical Robespierre, in whom the anti-historical
mode of action became not only barbarous, but
even grotesque.

Hume attacks the revolutionary theory, to-
gether with the contract theory, on natural-
historical grounds. Here his arguments against
Rousseau are most felicitous: ‘ Would these
reasoners but descend into the world, they would
meet with nothing that in the least corresponds
to theirideas. . . . In reality, there is not a
more terrible event than a total dissolution of
government, which gives liberty to the multitude,
and makes the determination or choice of a new
establishment depend upon a number, which
nearly approaches to that of the body of the

HUME AND ROUSSEAU. 489

people; for it never comes entirely to the whole
body of them. Every wise man then wishes to
see at the head of a powerful and obedient army
a general who may speedily seize the prize, and
give to the people a master, which they are so
unfit to choose for themselves. So little corre-
spondent is fact and reality to these philosophical
notions.”* If the revolution really became a
fact, and converted a Rousseau into a Robes-
pierre, Hume foresaw what he would desire—
namely, a Napoleon. If we compare Hume with
Rousseau, how striking is the contrast, in spite of
many points of resemblance! They both stand
on the very threshold of the French revolution ;
they are both in opposition to the dogmatic philo-
sophy of their age and their nations, they both
seek to reduce human knowledge to a natural
faith, and to purify it in conformity with nature.
This common opposition to the same adversary
brought them together. They became friends;
and Hume afforded the persecuted Rousseau a
hospitable asylum in England. A _ difference
afterwards arose; and they became enemies, less
from any fault in Hume than from Rousseau’s
unhappy suspicious mind, which had grown into a
fixed temperament. They were opposed to each
other, one being a sceptic, the other a visionary

* “Of the Original Contract.”

490 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

Utopian. Rousseau desired an ideal state, which
Hiume sneered at as a man of the world, and
attacked as a politician. Rousseau advanced a
revolutionary theory, which Hume opposed with
every argument and every feeling. Where are
their spirits to be found in the time of the actual
revolution, which neither lived to see? They
could not be separated by a wider chasm. To-
bespierre studied Rousseau’s Contrat Social;
and Louis XVI. read Hume’s “ History of the
Stuarts.”

Political theorists do not take into considera-
tion the historical conditions with which we are
interwoven, and from which none of us can or
should—least of all in practice—fully abstract
himself. We have a sort of historical pre-exist-
ence in our forefathers. As Socrates excellently
says, he is obliged to obey the laws of his country ;
for he has already pre-existed in his ancestors as
a citizen of Athens. The empirical philosophers,
who, least of all, should have straitened historical
experience, are most in opposition to it. The tabula
rasa of which they speak, exists neither within
ourselves, nor externally to ourselves. In their
theories of the state, they presuppose men who
find themselves in a position to make a state for
the first time, and come directly out of the hand of
nature as a fresh generation. This hypothesis is

CONSERVATISM OF HUME. 49}

false. Those men never existed; if they ever
did, there would be no history. The philosophers
who maintain the contract theory, abstract from
history; this is their pervading fault, which is
well understood by Hume. He excellently says,
** Did one generation of men go off the stage at
once, and another succeed—as is the case with
silkworms and butterflies,—the new race, if they
had sense enough to choose their government,
which surely is never the case with men, might
voluntarily and by general consent establish their
own form of civil polity, without any regard to
the laws or precedents which prevailed among
their ancestors. But as human society is im per-
petual flux, one man every hour going out of the
world, another coming into it, it is necessary, in
order to preserve stability in government, that
the new brood should conform themselves to the
established constitution, and nearly follow the
path which their fathers, treading in the foot-
steps of theirs, had marked out to them. Some
innovations must necessarily have place in every
human institution; and it is happy when the
enlightened genius of the age gives them a direc-
tion to the side of reason, liberty, and justice.
But violent innovations no individual is entitled
to make. They are even dangerous to be at-
tempted by the legislature. More ill than good

492 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

is to be expected from them.”* Hume is no
enemy of “ enlightenment” in itself; he is only an
enemy of that ordinary anti-historical enlighten -
ment that must necessarily be of an artificial kind,
and which, far from educating men, treats them as
plants in a hot-house. This non-educational and
anti-historical “ enlightenment,” which has been
called not inaptly “ spurious enlightenment,” is
attacked by Hume from a far higher and more
enlightened point of view, which approaches bis-
torical thought. For the same reason our Less-
ing attacked the anti-historical “ enlightenment.”
On this point he would have nothing in com-
mon with the Wolfians, and took no interest in
the experiments of Joseph II., which he saw
were premature. This is the “ Something that
Lessing said,”{ which Jacobi willingly heard.

* Essay, “ Of the Original Contract.”

¢ “Aufklirerei.” This modification of the word “Aufklirung ”
gives it a contemptuous turn; but “ Aufklirung” itself is used
with scarcely less contempt by writers opposed to the philosophy
of the eighteenth century.—J. QO.

{ “ Etwas, das Lessing sagte,” is the title of a treatise by Jacobi
commencing with these words:—“ I once heard Lessing say, that
all that had been maintained by Febronius, and the partisans of
Febronius, would be a mere unblushing flattering of princes ; for
all their arguments against the rights of the pope would be
either no arguments at all, or they would tell with double or triple
force against the princes themselves.” On these words the
treatise is based. Justinus Febronius is the pseudonym of
Johann Nicolaus von Hontheim, whose work on the State of the

GERMAN APPRECIATION OF HUME. 493

While English philosophy, in the person of
Hume, perceives that the “ enlightenment” be-
longing to it leaves history out of consideration,
and therefore fails, the same view is taken by
German philosophy in the person of Lessing,
after it has gone through a certain period of
anti-historical thought, most inconsistent with its
original foundation. While English philosophy,
in the person of Hume, arrives at the conclusion
that the ground of all our knowledge is faith and
feeling, and turns this conclusion to the advan-
tage of scepticism, the same result is arrived at
by Hamann, Herder, and with the greatest clear-
ness by Jacobi, and turned to the advantage of
religion. The English sceptic agrees in one point
with these German genius-thinkers*,—they are
all philosophers of faith; or we should rather
say that Hamann, Herder, and Jacobi, as philo-
sophers of faith, agreed with Hume. It was
they who revered the sceptic, in the cause of re-
ligion; they joined with him against the dogmatic
philosophy, against the anti-historical “ enlighten-
ment,” against an insipid and impracticable ration-
alism. Here the English and German philoso-

Church, and the Lawful Authority of the Pope, published in 1763,
made a considerable sensation throughout Europe.—J. O.

* “Genie-denker.” This expression, I conceive, is intended
to denote those thinkers whose thoughts are not expressed in a
formal system. At all events, this interpretation will fit Hamann,
Herder, and dacobi.—J. O.

494 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

phers shake hands with each other, that they
may both in common bring this dogmatic period
to a conclusion, and prepare a new epoch.

VI. Hume’s ContTRApDICTION, AND Kant’s SOLUTION.*

If we state the sum total of Hume’s philosophy,
we find that he has denied metaphysics, distin-
guished mathematics from experience (as analy-
tical from synthetical knowledge), and so ex-
plained the latter that its judgments must, without
exception, cease to be accepted as universal and
necessary. But how did Hume explain ex-
perience? By the idea of causality, which con-
nects our impressions. And how did he explain
this idea? By custom. And how this? By
oft-repeated experience. Thus Hume explains
experience by — experience. He _ presupposes
what he has to explain; he therefore thinks dog-
matically, and commits the very fault which the
sceptics of antiquity had remarked in the dog-
matic philosophers; his explanations are in an

* My intention here is only to show the point where the English
philosophy results in the Kantian. The dependent position of
Kant, with respect to the English philosophy, before he went
beyond the latter, I shall not investigate here. Such an investi-
gation would be foreign to my theme, and belongs to an account
of the Kantian philosophy, to which I am devoting an especial
work,—Auithor’s Note,

ORIGIN OF KANT. 495

obvious circle, exactly corresponding to the figure
which the ancient sceptics called ‘ dcd\Andos.”
A circle explains nothing. Hume thus far has
not explained experience; he has not solved the
problem, but only made it clear; but, at the same
time, he has made it so very clear, has defined it
so sharply, that it could not be avoided by any
independent thinker who might follow him. Nay,
it could not but occur to the philosophical mind
that two points were made obvious: one, the
necessity of solving the problem; the other, the
impossibility of Hume’s solution. Hume has_
plainly shown the next goal that philosophy must
pursue, and also, by his own example, the road
that will not lead to it. He, who understood the
problem, had necessarily to find a new road to its
solution. This road must manifestly be different
from those which had been taken by the English
philosophy since the time of Bacon, and by the
German since Leibnitz. Whoever finds the right
starting-point for this goal, makes a new epoch
in the history of philosophy. The goal is per-
ceived, the starting-point is found, the epoch
is made, by a German philosopher trained in the
Leibnitz- W olfian school, —one in whom the Ger-
man mind is combined with the English. This
philosopher is Immanuel Kant. His work is an
offspring of the German and English philosophies,

496 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

which in the mind of Kant came into fruitful
contact. It is remarkable enough that in the very
origin of this man the two nationalities were united.
His family had emigrated from Scotland; and
thus, through his forefathers, he was a countryman
of Hume, whose investigations he understood and
appropriated to himself, more than those of any
other philosopher. By these investigations he
saw the problem at which philosophy had arrived ;
and at the same time he perceived that by
Hume’s process nothing was explained. Ex-
perience, which Bacon had made the instrument
of philosophy, had now become its problematic
object. Hume, instead of explaining it, had pre-
supposed it, had made experience itself the ground
on which experience was to be explained. At
this point he had remained dogmatical, like all
the rest of the philosophers. Locke intended to
be a sensualist; his defect was, that he was not
sensualistic enough; and this was discovered by
Berkeley. Hume intended to be a sceptic; his
fault was that he was not sceptical enough; this
was discovered by Kant. If Hume had been
more sceptical, he would have explained experience
without presupposing it, he would at this decisive
juncture have divided and freed himself from the
dogmatical philosophy ; in a word, he would have
been critical,

POSITION TAKEN BY KANT. 497

VII. Bacon anv Kant.

Kant was more sceptical than Hume; he dis-
covered the critical point of view, and thus
brought about the crisis that led to a new epoch
in the history of philosophy. The process was
really very simple. He took exactly the same
position with regard to experience and human
knowledge that had been taken by Bacon with
respect to nature. He explained the facts of
experience as Bacon had attempted to explain the
facts of nature. To explain a fact is to show,
under all circumstances, the conditions under
which it occurs. These conditions must, under
all circumstances, precede the fact, and must be
sought before the fact itself. Kant sought the
conditions of an empirical knowledge, not above
it, like the German metaphysicians, nor in it, like
the English sensualists, but before it; he neither
with the one party presupposed knowledge in
innate ideas, nor with the other presupposed
experience in mental impressions and their re-
peated connection. He analysed the fact of ex-
perience, as Bacon analysed natural phenomena.
As Bacon had sought the power of nature by
which things are effected and formed, so did
Kant seek the powers or faculties of knowledge,

KK

Dash STN 3

498 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

which constitute experience. The conditions
which, as necessary functions, precede experience,
he called “ transcendental,” and by this word
designated both his philosophy and the faculty
which he was compelled to assume as prior to all
knowledge, or which he discovered to be prior to
all knowledge in man. Thus that which Kant
supposed to be prior to knowledge is not itself
knowledge, but consists of the knowledge-forming
faculties, that in themselves are empty. These
pure faculties are called by Kant the “ pure
reason.” This is no tabula rasa, like the human
mind according to Locke, nor is it an aggregate
of * innate ideas,” like those from which Leibnitz
and Wolf sought to deduce knowledge; but it
consists of powers that constitute man as man, —
that essence of humanity, which no one dis-
covered before Kant. It was a new discovery,
the greatest that philosophy has made, and one,
moreover, which it will neither uproot or surpass.

Bacon sought the right road to find the neces-
sary laws of nature, and he discovered empirical
philosophy. Kant sought the right road to dis-
cover the necessary laws of experience, and dis-
covered transcendental or critical philosophy.
Bacon asked how and by what means natural
phenomena are possible. Kant asked how and
by what means are physics, mathematics, and me-

PROGRESS OF KANT. 499

taphysics possible, and he solved his questions in
the “Critique of Pure Reason,” the “ Novum
Organum” of a new philosophy. To this work
German philosophy, rendered fruitful by English
philosophy, gave birth. Kant was a dogmatical
before he became a critical philosopher; and he
accomplished the transition from one period to
the other under the influence of the English phi-
losophy, especially that of Hume. Starting from
the Leibnitz-Wolfian philosophy, and passing
through that of Hume, he arrived at his own.
The first person who reveiwed the “Critique of
Pure Reason ” explained Kant’s philosophy as an
Idealism after the fashion of Berkeley. Here-
upon Kant explained his own work in his “ Pro-
legomena to all future Metaphysics,” and said, in
reply to the false comparison, that David Hume,
rather than Berkeley, was the philosopher who,
many years before, had awakened him out of his
dogmatic slumber, and had given a totally new
direction to his investigations in the field of spe-
culative philosophy. Mindful of this tendency,
Kant took for the motto of his « Critique of
Pure Reason” the words of Bacon, from the pre-
face to the “ Novum Organum ”— words that an-
nounce the great fact of which the two reformers
of philosophy are conscious.

“Of ourselves we say nothing; but for the
KK 2

500 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

matter of which we treat, we desire men not to
regard it as an opinion, but as a necessary work,
and to hold it for certain that we are laying the
foundation, not of any sect or theory, but of that
which will profit and dignify mankind. In the
next place, we desire that they should fairly con~
sult the common advantage, and themselves par-
ticipate in the remaining labours. Moreover, that
they should be strong in hope, and not pretend or
imagine that our Instauration is an infinite work,
surpassing human strength, since it is, in reality,
an end and legitimate termination of infinite
error.” *

* This is rather a condensation than an exact quotation.—J. O.

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APPENDICES.

A.

(Referred to at p. 87).

The entire passage in Spinoza’s letter, which is
the second in the collection of Epistles, is as fol-
lows :—De Bacone parum dicam, qui de hac re
admodum confuse loquitur et fere nihil probat:
sed tantum narrat. Nam primo supponit, quod
intellectus humanus preter fallaciam sensuum sua
sola natura fallitur, omniaque fingit ex analogia
suze nature et non ex analogia universi, adeo ut
sit instar speculi inaequalis ad radios rerum, quod
suam naturam nature rerum immiscet, &c. Se-
cundo, quod intellectus humanus fertur ad abs-
tracta propter naturam propriam, atque que
fluxa sunt, fingit esse constantia, &c. Tertio,
quod intellectus humanus gliscat, neque consistere
aut acquiescere possit ; et quas adhuc alias causas
adsignat, facile omnes ad unicam Cartesii reduci
possunt ; scilicet, quia voluntas humana est libera
et latior intellectu, sive, ut ipse Verulamius
(Aph. 49) magis confuse loquitur, quia intellectus

-

504 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

luminis sicci non est; sed recipit infusionem a
voluntate. (Notandum hic, quod Verulamius
sepe capiat intellectum pro mente, in quo a
Cartesio differt.) Hanc ergo causam, ceteras ut
nullius momenti parum curando, ostendam esse
falsam ; quod et ipsi facile vidissent, modo atten-
dissent ad hoc, quod scilicet voluntas differt ab
hac et illa volitione, eodem modo ac albedo ab hoc
et illo albo, sive humanitas ab hoe et illo homine;
adeo ut eque impossibile sit concipere, voluntatem
causam esse hujus ac illius volitionis, atque
humanitatem esse causam Petri et Pauli. Cum
igitur voluntas non sit, nisi ens rationis, et ne-
quaquam dicenda causa hujus et illius voluntatis ;
et particulares volitiones, quia, ut existant, egent
causa, non possint dici liber, sed necessario sint
tales, quales a suis causis determinantur; et
denique secundum Cartesium, ipsissimi errores sint
particulares volitiones, inde necessario sequitur,
errores, id est particulares volitiones, non esse
liberas, sed determinari a causis externis ; et nullo
modo a voluntate, quod demonstrare promisi, &c.”
The complete passage in Bacon (Nov. Org. L,
49), cited by Dr. Fischer, is as follows : —* Intel-
lectus humanus luminis sicci non est; sed recipit
infusionem a voluntate et affectibus, id quod ge-
nerat ad quod vult scientias. Quod enim mavult
homo verum esse, id potius credit.

APPENDIX B. 505

B.

(Referred to at p. 125).

Gothe’s characteristic of Bacon, in the “ Theory
of Colours,” is as follows :—

** Generally we estimate the works of an emi-
nent man by the effect they have produced on
ourselves, either by advancing or retarding our
cultivation. By such self-experiences do we
pass judgment on our predecessors; and from
this point of view may that be regarded, which
we venture to say respecting an admirable genius,
who appears to us at the close of the sixteenth
and the commencement of the seventeenth century.

«* What Bacon of Verulam has bequeathed to us
can be divided into two parts. The first is the
historical part, which is chiefly in a disapproving
spirit, pointing out previous deficiencies, reveal-
ing ldacune, and finding fault with predecessors.
The second part we would call the instructive—
didactically dogmatic, urging to new labours, ex-
citing, promising.

“In both these parts there is for us something
that is attractive and something that repels, as we
shall now more clearly define. In the historical
part, we are pleased with the acute insight into
all that has gone before, and more especially by

506 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.

the great clearness with which the obstacles to
science are brought forward. We are pleased
also by the detection of those prejudices that gene-
rally and particularly hinder the further progress
of mankind. But, on the other hand, most re-
volting to us is Bacon’s insensibility to the merits
of his predecessors, his want of reverence for
antiquity. For how can one listen with patience
when he compares the works of Aristotle and Plato
to light planks, which, because they consist of
no solid material, may have floated down to us on
the flood of ages? In the second part, we are
displeased by his requisitions, which are loosely
made, and by his method, which is not con-
structive, complete in itself, or directed to a
fixed point, but promotes isolation (among the
departments of science). On the other hand, we
are highly gratified by his encouragements, his in-
citements, and his promises.

“Tt is from the gratification he produces that
his fame has arisen; for who does not love to hear
narrated the defects of former times? who does
not feel confidence in himself? who does not
place a hope in posterity? On the other hand,
that which is displeasing is indeed observed by
the more acute; but it is treated tenderly, as in
fairness it ought to be.

‘«‘ From these considerations we venture to explain

APPENDIX B. 507

how it was that Bacon should be so much talked
about, without producing any great effect, or rather,
when his effect had rather been injurious than use-
ful. For, inasmuch as his method, so far as he can
be said to have had one, is exceedingly cumber-
some, there was no school that assembled round
_ either him or his remains. Men of eminence ne-
cessarily succeeded, who raised their age to more
consistent views of nature, and rallied around them
all who felt a love for comprehensive science.

** Moreover, by referring man to experience, he
caused them to fall— being thus left completely to
themselves —into a boundless empiria. Thus they
imbibed such a horror of method, that they re-
garded disorder as the true element, in which alone
science could thrive. We will allow ourselves to
repeat what we-have said, in the form of a simi-
litude. |

“ Bacon resembles a man who clearly perceives
the irregularity, insufficiency, and unwieldiness of
an ancient building, and can explain these defects
to the architects. He counsels them to abandon it,
to relinquish without scruple the soil, the materials,
and all the appurtenances, to look out for another
site, and to raise a new edifice. He is an excellent
orator, well versed in the art of persuasion: he
shakes some of the walls; they fall in, and a partial
removal of the inhabitants becomes imperative.

:" »,

508 FRANCIS BACON ‘OF VERULAM.

He points out a new site; preparations-are made;

but the ground is everywhere found too narrow.
He submits new plans, but they are neither clearly
intelligible, nor attractive. But, above all, he
speaks of new, and as yet unknown, materials; and
now is the world well served. The multitude dis-
perse in every direction, and bring back with them
infinite details; while at home, new plans, new
spheres of activity, new settlements, occupy the
citizens, and absorb their attention.

‘¢In spite of all this, and on account of all this,
the works of Bacon wiil remain a valuable treasure
for posterity, especially when the man no longer
influences us immediately, but only historically ;
which will soon be possible, as we are already
separated from him by centuries.”

The above will be found in the last edition of
Géthe’s works, vol. xxix., p. 88. For the remarks
on Newton, Dr. Fischer refers to the same edition,
vol. xxviil., p. 293.

THE END.

LONDON :

Printed by SporriswoonE & Co.
New-street Square.

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